The Outsiders: Book Two
by HazelAurum
Summary: "Oh no. Not her. Please, Jesus, not my sister!" I watched him drop to his knees, grabbing her and shaking her, begging her to wake up. She remained motionless, and everything seemed so unreal - like I was just watching a horrific movie. She couldn't be dead. "I'm the one who should be dead, it was supposed to be me! They should've used real bullets. I should be dead!" he screamed.
1. Chapter 1

**All rights go to S.E. Hinton. Thank you for a truly eye-opening, inspirational story.**

It started when I left school that afternoon. It had been a pretty lousy day, since a bunch of Socs had shot me dirty looks and one guy had even spit on me. It wasn't even something I had done, but I figured there was no complaining of it, a guy had to represent his gang at all times, I guess. There had been a fight not far down my street, and a few guys in the gang had gotten caught up in it. I'm not completely sure what happened, but apparently some Soc named Gary and a few of his cronies had jumped Steve and Two-Bit.

Let me just start off by saying something, _jumping Two-Bit is never a good idea_. In this neighborhood, you always have to have your guard up, and the Socs had never really forgiven us for beating them to bits in the Big Rumble, which is what everyone had taken to calling it. They've become almost ruthless, merciless, to the point where they might take it out on a middle-class kid who's even friends with a greaser.

Still, it doesn't matter how ruthless you are, jumping a guy who carries a ten-inch switchblade and a free fist is probably a big mistake, especially when he has a buddy who's gonna back him up all the way. A duo like that can dish out some major smarting for tomorrow. What shamed them most was probably the fact that there were at least five Socs to our two greasers, and Steve and Two-Bit had still completely pummeled them.

When one greaser does something to a Soc, glory knows they'll dish payback to all the other greasers too. Honestly, I'm pretty sure the Socs can't even tell us greasers apart anymore, one of us could just as well have been a broad and they wouldn't have known the difference, so spitting on one of us was just the same as spitting on another. So when that guy did, I didn't bother busting him. At school I'm a quiet kid and I didn't want to get in any trouble, because Lord knows that Darry would have my hide if I did. And busting someone to a teacher or something would make me look completely like a scaredy-cat. But still, I'd catch it from Darry. There's no pleasing him, honestly.

Really though, Darry and I have eased up a bunch on each other since Soda fessed up about how much the fighting bothered him, and honestly, it bugged me too. I love my brothers, even if Darry was a bit uptight and Soda a bit careless. Darry has his moments now and then, but he's calmed down a lot, so I can't complain that much. Besides, it's good to have someone looking out for you. As for Soda, he can lighten up almost anything and always sticks up for me, so I dig him pretty easy.

So anyway, I decided to cut across the school parking lot, but then I saw, you guess it, Gary. He was sliding into a really tuff car, a dark red Corvette that gleamed like cherry Coke in the sunlight.

Suddenly, I remembered that real sharp cheerleader, Cherry Valance. That car gleamed exactly like her dark-red hair, hence her name. I had really taken a liking to her, but after the Big Rumble, we didn't really see much of each other. She was a Soc. The separation that the East and West Sides had grown so much more distinct since the Big Rumble, even though some people thought otherwise. It had happened only about two months ago, but it seemed like ages.

Too bad...Cherry and I had really dug each other. And boy, she was pretty.

Stupidly, I realized I was standing in the middle of the lot, just asking for some bum Soc to come and plow me over, so I started to get a move on. A dark front of menacing clouds was moving in. I was thinking about trying to get the boys out for a game of football before the storm hit, but maybe they'd be cool with playing in the mud too, get some scrapes and look tough. I kept moving until I realized that Gary's eyes were locked on me, following me. A creepy smile formed at the corner of his lips, and I almost shivered. He was not someone I would want to get jumped by, that's for sure.

Just then, a strong hand locked down on my shoulder. "What're you looking at, _grease_?" A deep, gravelly voice asked menacingly. I nearly yelped, but then pulled my switchblade, pivoting and brandishing it.

Two-Bit backed up quickly, his hands up and a grin dancing on his face. "Sorry, Ponyboy, didn't mean to scare ya." He laughed. "Well yeah, I kinda did. So I see you eyeing up little lo' Gary over there," he said, leaning an elbow on my shoulder and trying to look tough. "Gotta cancer stick, kid?"

"Yeah," I said, a little more calmly—even though my hand was shaking—and slipping a pack out of my back pocket. Two-Bit pulled one and so did I, and I lit them for us. He took a drag and looked mean, so Gary averted his gaze. Guess he wasn't over getting shown up by grease, but at least he seemed resigned now, and the better for him. Besides, we can look meaner than angry bears, and that'll set someone straight pretty quick.

Two-Bit grinned with satisfaction. "All right, let's bust this joint," he said, his arm dropping to his side, and his thumb hooking in his belt-loop, just as it began to rain.

The rain absolutely poured, like someone had taken hundreds of buckets and begun dumping them simultaneously. We didn't really mind the rain, other than the fact that it messed up our tuff hair, so we tried to walk under trees or the eaves of roofs. Every once in a while, Two-Bit would kick up a puddle, so at one point we were so drenched that we decided to just run wild and splash through puddles wherever.

I paused and turned to Two-Bit as we began nearing my place. "How do you think the guys would feel about a muddy football game?" I asked, grinning.

Two-Bit grinned back wickedly. "Definitely. We're wetter than drowned dogs anyway. You and Soda on my team."

"So what, Stevie's gonna be on a team alone? 'Cause Darry isn't going to wanna play."

Two-Bit was silent for a minute. "Okay. I don't really feel like playin' football anyway."

I frowned. "Okay, it's cool I guess." He could've just put Soda on Steve's team. They usually play against each other, but that doesn't have to mean all the time. Then again, two-on-two wasn't enough in football, really.

We trod on silently. I could tell Two-Bit was tense, but I didn't know why. I gave in to just stare at my shoes as we walked. Boy, a pair of Chucks sure could get ratty. The toe bumper was all scratched up and dirt was ground right into the rubber. A hole was burnt right through one of my shoelaces. Shoot, these couldn't be more than a month old. Darry would kill me when I told him I needed another—.

"Dammit Ponyboy!"

I must have jumped about a foot in the air.

Two-Bit's face was contorted in an expression I don't think I've ever seen there before: frustration. Good old, easygoing Two-Bit was frustrated.

"Well why are you hollerin', Two-Bit? What's wrong?" I said, stopping dead in a puddle.

Two-Bit turned to me, running a hand through his half-greased hair, mussing it up even worse. "I want to know why you act like nothing happened. I mean, good Lord, I know we don't talk about it or nothing, but you completely ignore it like it never happened!"

I stared at him, dumbfounded. His gray eyes were completely broken, distressed—an emotion completely absent in him. Wait, no. I'd seen him like that not long ago...and for some reason, I hadn't been surprised. It looked exactly the same, the mixture of anger, disbelief, and grief. I would not remember what happened. I refuse. I won't.

Just like always. Whenever I tried to remember what had happened those weeks ago, I would successfully draw a blank. From all I could figure of it, it wasn't a good thing. Especially if it could do something like this to Two-Bit. It bothered me, and that's why I wouldn't try to recall it. It hurt.

At that moment, I decided it best to fib. I lie real easy, and it makes me kinda guilty, but I was worried. Soda said that's because I read so much that I can lie easy, but I don't know. Something that could cause this much unrest wasn't something I wanted to dig into. Besides, it technically wouldn't be a lie. I sort of...forgot...exactly what happened, so I couldn't act like it had happened. It's relative.

"Ignore what?" I said quietly.

Two-Bit looked ready to bash my face in. "Look kid, if you wanna pull something—" he stopped. We stood in the rain for a minute, and I was getting awful cold.

"Never mind. Let's get to your place before Darry decides you got kidnapped," Two-Bit said more steadily, but his voice seemed to rattle in his throat a little.

"Okay."

The tension seemed to ease up a bit after that. The wind was blowing and it was getting colder. I guess late November can get like that. Not too long after that, the rain got heavier and became sleet, so Two-Bit and I started slicking outta there real fast.

I hopped onto the porch and shook off a little.

Two-Bit laughed and shook his head. It seemed like he was either trying really hard to keep the tension out of his voice, or had forgotten that quickly. The latter seemed more likely, Two-Bit was too happy-go-lucky to dwell on something. "What on earth are you shakin' like a mangy mutt for?"

I looked at him dubiously. "I don't want to track any more water into the house than I have to..."

"All right kid, I'll leave you to that," he chuckled, pulling open the rusty screen door. I caught it before it could smack into the doorjamb and stepped in. The door creaked shut.

Sodapop, my brother, was napping on the couch, a newspaper over his face and his arms sprawled all over. It was funny to see because one, he was shirtless and there was a half-eaten sandwich on his stomach; and two, Soda doesn't read the newspaper. Two-Bit must have noticed too, because he motioned to him and chuckled.

I smiled and threw myself down into a threadbare armchair. The sleet was getting heavier and a cold breeze was starting to drift in through the screen door, and my clothes were cold and wet, but I started to drift off anyway. Nights were rough for me and I didn't get much sleep...

"_What the hell's the matter with you?_"

My eyes flew open and I jumped, almost tipping the chair over. Soda must have gotten spooked too, because he had fallen onto the floor, but the newspaper was still on his face.

"What?" I said stupidly, my voice thick with sleep.

Darry was planted in front of the door, his arms crossed and his face stern. "Are you stupid or something, Pony?"

Soda pulled the paper off his face, which was covered in some funny gunk. "What in the name of..."

At that moment Two-Bit stuck his head out from the kitchen, eating a bologna and mayonnaise sandwich. I don't know why, but I could almost feel my face turning green, while my stomach turned over. Then I remembered; I never liked bologna. Yeah. That was it.

"Hey kid," Two-Bit said, looking a little concerned. "You don't look so hot."

"That's because he's running around with wet clothes!" Darry growled. "What are you aimin' to do, catch pneumonia?"

"No, I forgot—"

Darry rolled his eyes. "You forgot. You always forget. For Pete's sake—" He cut himself off. His eyes drifted to Sodapop in realization. "Sorry, Soda. I just—"

"It's alright. Ponyboy, you shouldn't be runnin' around in wet clothes. You're li'ble to catch cold at the least." He looked pointedly at Two-Bit, who was snickering. "And the common cold doesn't have an age limit for who it chases, pal. Wet clothes aren't healthy for you, either. You're not greasy enough to repel water yet, so you should really get on something dry."

That set Two-Bit straight. But then he looked at Soda's face and started cracking up again. Soda rolled his eyes sarcastically. "And here I have to wonder who put—" he wiped off some of the gunk with his finger and stuck it in his mouth. "—_mayonnaise_ on my face."

We couldn't help it. We all started laughing, even Darry grinned. "You guys are a riot."

We calmed down a bit, and I went into my room and changed my clothes so Darry could hush up. But all I could find was a pair of jeans. The dresser was empty, and there were dirty clothes and books scattered everywhere. There were food stains on the rug and the bedspread. The dartboard that hung on the door didn't only have darts in it, but a funny little silver switchblade.

Well, little to me, seeing that most of the gang has at least eight inches of metal in their pockets. Not that I blame them. Since we smashed them in a rumble, the Socs have been pretty vengeful, and the fighting has only escalated. You _need_ a big switchblade around here. This one was only about six inches, so it was pretty much worthless for anything other than darts to us. I decided to leave it, along with the rest of the mess, and make some dinner.

The cupboards were pretty bare, since no one had done any shopping in a while. All we had was eggs, deli ham, mayonnaise, carrots, bologna, and stuff for chocolate cake. Not really a combination for a good meal. I decided to just throw everything together except the bologna and mayonnaise (and of course not the chocolate cake stuff) and I ended up with something like a gigantic omelet pizza. It looked pretty good, so I smacked it onto a plate and set it on the table.

Soda wandered in from who knows where, still shirtless, and sniffed. "Smells good, little buddy. What is it?"

I shrugged. "Whatever you want, I guess. Pizza omelet, omelet pizza, egg and ham salad."

Soda grinned. "Alright, I'll dig." He turned. "_Darry_! Fooood!" Soda called in a sing-song voice.

"Alright, gimme a minute, I just got outta the shower!"

Soda and I cut up the omelet thingy with an unnecessarily large knife, (which, to be honest, I think was a bread knife) and it did smell real good. My mouth was watering and I was just about to take a bite when suddenly the screen door flew open, hitting the house.

It was Steve. Something must have been really wrong, because his face looked like a deer in headlights. "Curtis! Come quick! There's a couple o' kids getting beat on in the street, and a little girl's hurt real bad!"

We didn't need to be told twice. When anyone in the gang called "Curtis!" they were referring to all three of us. Soda and I flew out the door, and Darry was right on our tails, zipping his pants. We were all barefoot, Soda because he hates shoes, Darry hadn't had time, and mine were soaked through. Even barefoot, I could run faster than the rest of them, even Steve, who had shoes and a pretty good head start.

I saw it. There, in the middle of the street, facing away from us, was an ugly green Corvair, like dark baby-puke. Or guacamole. Shoot, they were the same thing to me. In front of the car there were two Socs, and a kid a little older than me, but younger than the other guys in our gang. One of the Socs had a switchblade, and he was holding it up real threatening-like, and the kid looked like he was ready to mess his pants. I didn't see any little girl, but maybe she was pretty short and one of the guys was blocking her.

I did the first thing that popped into my head—jump them. I wrapped my legs around the guy's waist and my arms around his neck and started strangling him. Darry took on the other guy and Soda started slugging the one I had. Darry had his guy down in a couple hits, but this one could take a real beating. At least that's what I thought, until that kid waltzed right up to the guy and just planted one right on his...well, you know. The guy screeched and started laughing real high-pitched and hysterical, like some nut, and doubled over. But then he must have decided to go down and take someone with him, cause he tipped over backwards. His head smacked right into my face, and I guess he had a skull that was pretty thick.

The pavement met my head with a funny crack, and fireworks shot off into the sky.

In a second, Darry was right over me, but I couldn't see him too well, the fireworks were in the way. Right then it began to hail.

"Pony? Ponyboy? Are you alright?"

Other people began to crowd into my vision. Soda's lip was cut. "Watch out the fireworks don't hit you," I said stupidly.

"Glory, Pony, you got an eye blacker than ink, and a big bump on your head too!" someone said, but I couldn't make out who.

They should stop spinning around me, it was making me dizzy. Darry reached out his hand and pulled me up, and the ground jumped.

"Careful buddy." Then to Soda: "I think he's rebounding with that concussion."

"Yep. You get him and I'll get the little one?"

"Alright."

Suddenly I felt real light, and Darry's face was right up in mine. "Take it easy, little buddy."

"Okay," I said, feeling my eyes roll up into my head.

Darry took me inside and laid me down on the bed gently, and I dropped off.

**Next part soon to come. Let me know what you think, thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**More, as promised.**

When I woke up, I ached and smarted all over. It felt almost like a hangover. The only time I could remember being this banged up was at the Big Rumble.

I glanced out the window, and it was either late night or early morning. I kind of laid there for a while not doing anything, before I turned to Sodapop.

Except it _wasn't_ Sodapop.

I almost yelled, I was that spooked by it. Instead of Soda, there was a girl! Just thinking about it made my head light, and my face got real hot too. A girl in my bed! Oh glory, was I embarrassed.

Just then, Soda tip-toed into the room, nudging the door open. I looked at him in horror, but he seemed so ready to burst with laughter. He came over and sat on the bed. The little girl didn't nudge.

"Calm yourself, Pony. We put her here for a lot of reasons. Firstly, we tried to put her on the couch but she kept rolling off. Secondly, the other kid," he jerked his thumb towards the living room, "Wanted the couch. Said he was gonna bust as soon as he knew she was okay. From the way he said it, he didn't seem too keen on taking her with him. Or too keen on her in general."

I just stared at him with my mouth hanging open. He went on, "Thirdly, I couldn't well put her with Darry. At least you two are the same age. Darry tried to give the other one his bed but he wouldn't take more than the couch. Grumpy kid, I'll tell ya. And fourthly," he wiggled his eyebrows, so that instantly made me nervous. "She was running a real, real cold temp, and you were burning up. It was the logical thing to do."

I glared at him skeptically. "Alright. But if she wakes up and sees me without trousers and yells her head off, don't blame me."

Sodapop laughed. "Fair enough, little buddy," he said, messing up my hair. "Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to go make breakfast for fifty."

I knew what he meant. Our gang could clean out a buffet easily, and we alone could clean out the cupboards the day after shopping. Not to mention we had two more mouths to feed. Great. I wonder if the Socs ever pick up strays. Probably not.

I hunted around for a pair of jeans that were halfway clean, since mine were kind of wet and muddy, but I wasn't having much luck. I hadn't been wearing a shirt, and Lord knows I wouldn't find one, so I just went without. Boy, did I need to do laundry today. I finally dug around under the bed, and found a pair I hadn't managed to dirty too much.

I quickly pulled them on, and started to weave through the maze of books, until my eyes fell upon her, and I think my mouth might have dropped.

I'll hand you one thing, boy was she pretty. She could be the prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on, excepting _maybe_ Cherry Valance. She had long black lashes, and pretty lips that were red almost, without lipstick or anything. She had really dark brown hair, almost black, but it was tied at the back of her head in one big rat's-nest. She must have had a lot of hair, because the knot seemed real big.

She was pretty, but boy was she dirty. There were tracks through the grime all over her face, and I couldn't tell of they made by tears or rain. There was mud caked in her hair, and she was cut in some places. I felt real bad. But even all dirty, she looked almost...angelic. Gosh, she was pretty.

I decided to go help Soda with breakfast, and she never would have noticed I was there if I hadn't tripped over a stack of books on my way out. For being asleep and all, she sure could jump! She flew upright, her mouth in a perfect O and her eyes wider than all get out.

I was almost taken aback by her eyes, and I couldn't help but pause and stare at them. They were a really pale blue color, like icy blue, or the sky on a winter day. They had little green, black, and oddly enough, gold flecks too...where had I seen them before? I knew I'd never seen her, I would have remembered a girl that pretty, but I was positive I knew those eyes.

I didn't really have much time to ponder that though, because then the little miss pulled out a switchblade! Who the heck would give a _girl _a switchblade? _Are they stupid_? I didn't have time to find out though, because she wasn't shy with it, and I backed against the wall, nearly tripping and killing myself.

"_Hey!_ I need a little help!" I yelled, my hands up in surrender.

His footsteps met me in a second flat. Well, it was a small house I guess. He saw the kid poking at me with a knife, and glanced at me. I shrugged. _She sorta just did, Soda, there wasn't much I could do about it! _I mouthed.

He nodded, and turned to her, his hands up. "Calm down, this is my brother. He's an okay kid, I promise." Suddenly he grinned real crazy. "Probably better than the rest of us, honestly. He's a real sweet kid, just ease up, he won't lay a finger on you."

Her eyes darted between me and Soda, and she lowered what I now saw was a piece of glass with bandaging tape wrapped around the bottom half. Smart kid.

I laughed despite myself. Soda could probably get a girl to do anything just through his looks.

"I don't know her n—"

She cut him off, "I'm Red."

"The color of your blood. I get it now," Soda cocked an eyebrow at her, and grinned. That made him look a whole lot like Two-Bit. Red, like most girls would have, smiled back at him, making googly-eyes. Well, there goes any hope I had. I nearly smacked myself.

I felt my face get red, and Soda must have noticed to, because he asked, "What's up?"

I just shook my head. He shrugged. "Alright."

I turned to Red. "So...are you, uh, hungry?"

She nodded, and I must have looked nervous, because she smiled softly. "Definitely. I have eaten in...a while," she added thoughtfully.

Soda and I exchanged looks. "Alright," he said. "I just made bacon and eggs with cheese, and we have chocolate milk and cake too," he grinned.

I looked at him in disbelief. "Bacon? Where did you get bacon?" Some bacon yesterday would have been great—but we didn't have any.

Red smiled back kindly. "I think I'll pass on the cake, but the rest sounds great." She tried to get up, but her face scrunched up and she gasped. Soda and I immediately ran to her side. "No," she breathed. "I'm okay. I'm okay." But it sounded like Red was trying to convince herself more than us.

I held out a hand to her anyway, and she looked up at me with a weird expression on her face, but she took it, and I pulled her up.

"Thanks," Red murmured, her face pink.

I smiled nervously. "No problem."

But before she turned away, I noticed she was smiling too. Sodapop wiggled his eyebrows, and I elbowed him hard in the ribs. Oops.

Red was pretty woozy, but she insisted on trying to walk by herself. Soda shook his head. "Nope. The kid and I haven't tried to clean up in ages, and we trip on the floor when we're _not _dizzy and suffering from blood loss."

I glared at Soda like he was crazy. Soda just bent down and began making a path through books and clothes and old cigarette packs, so _I _had to pick Red up. I really should try to be neater.

I hefted her up and...glory! She weighed almost nothing. I could believe it when she said she hadn't eaten in a while...I wondered how on earth someone could go without eating any longer than a few hours.

As I trudged out of the room, I was really aware of how close she was. That was when I noticed a long, thin, pale scar that fell down the side of her face, right through the very tip of her eyebrow down to her jaw. I wonder how she got that, it looked like it must have hurt pretty bad.

I lowered her into a chair at the kitchen table, and went to get plates and forks.

"You didn't have to carry me, you know."

I held still for a minute, my back to her, then shrugged nervously. "Wasn't a problem. The civil thing to do." It made me uncomfortable, actually, but I wasn't gonna tell her that.

At that, she laughed bitterly. "Civil. I haven't heard that word applied in a long time. At least not correctly."

I felt myself tense. "You're tellin' me..." I said under my breath.

"Oy, Ponyboy!" Soda said, entering the kitchen, grinning. He looked down at the table. "Well, guess I don't need to tell you to set the plates," he mused, then turned to Red, who had an odd expression on her face, and my guess was disbelief or skepticism. I was used to it though. My name tended to do that to people. "Do you need to wash up? I could get you a towel."

Red drummed her fingers on the table, then nodded. "That would be nice. I haven't had a hot shower in a long while."

Soda went to the hall closet and retrieved a towel, tossing it to her. She barely caught it, laughing nervously. "Thanks. What about—"

"A change of clothes?" a voice said, and there came Darry, buttoning up his shirt.

I looked at Red's outfit. She wore a beat up denim jacket that was way too big for her, with a plain white top under it that had a print of an American flag, and an eagle. She had on a pair of tight, faded, ripped up jeans held up by a black belt with a silver buckle that had a _W_ emblazoned on it, and stars circling it. Huh...wonder what that stood for. For shoes, she had a pair of red Converses, and it looked like she had drawn the colonial flag on one toe with a marker, and an eagle on the other toe. She must have been a decent artist, but they were completely battered, and falling apart. The look was completed by a red handkerchief tied around her head, knotting at the top. She was real dirty, but somehow she managed to be beautiful all the same...

"You could borrow some stuff from us, I suppose," Darry tried, and if I didn't know better, I would say his face reddened a little. "And if someone," Darry looked at me pointedly, "Does laundry today, we can wash your clothing."

"But—" I began to protest, but Darry cut me off.

"No buts. Hospitality, Ponyboy."

Red coughed, then got up and left for the bathroom. I noticed she kept her hand pressed to her side, gripping the jacket there.

I crossed my arms and made a sour face. I didn't want to wash a girl's stuff...I felt my face get hot just thinking of it, and I could see Soda trying to keep from snickering. I elbowed him in the gut, hard. "Why can't Sodapop do laundry?"

"He's too busy keeping food on the table. However, little buddy, today is Saturday, so you're free all day," Darry said, piling food onto his plate.

"You're gonna leave me home alone with a _girl_?"

Darry must not have thought of that, because he paused. Then he said, "No, the guys'll probably be over today, Two-Bit at least. And aren't you forgetting about the other kid?"

Glory, I forgot there was another kid. Turns out he was still fast asleep on the couch, guess that's why I didn't notice him. "Oh, okay."

Darry caught his toast as it popped, and sat down at the kitchen table, leafing open the paper, and started digging into his food. He looked at it in surprise.

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

Darry looked at it for another minute. "Well, I've just realized that the food is a normal color and taste, the kid didn't do anything wacky to it. Or did you cook it?"

Huh, it was weird hearing your oldest brother call your older brother a kid. "No, it was Soda." He continued to stare at it, then just shrugged, and kept eating. It was a bit funny that Soda didn't make the eggs green or something, he liked to experiment when he cooked. He has way too much fun doing everyday jobs, I'll tell you.

Soda came back in and plopped into a chair. "I tried to find some of Pony's old clothes in the closet, but I don't think they'll fit very well. I left them on the bathroom counter."

Darry nodded, but then his gaze went past me, to the living room. He smiled coolly. "Good morning, buddy."

I turned in my seat to see that the guy was upright, his eyes sleepy and his hair tousled. He had a black eye, and another bruise on his jaw. He met my gaze and I nodded to him.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Red's cleaning up right now," Sodapop replied shortly. "Hungry?"

"Yeah, thanks man," he said, standing up. _"Red?" _he whispered under his breath, then shrugged.

Guess they weren't on a first name basis. Or maybe a name basis at all. For some reason, I was glad about that. "So...did you guys just meet or somethin'?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. Met her in Ardmore, wanderin' around funny. Decided I'd see if she needed help, and she pulled a piece of glass on me. Ain't never seen a girl do that, but gosh did she look like a deer in headlights, scared to death. I told her I wouldn't bug her none, and I asked if she wanted to be taken home, and she wouldn't answer, so I asked if there was somewhere else I could take her, and she said Tulsa.

"I had a guy who owed me a favor and he let me take his car up. Once we got here I asked where she needed to be, and she said east side, there's some guys she needed to find here. Never said who though. But it seemed important. I just got kicked out by my older brother, he got engaged and his wife's gonna move in with him. I figured I might as just go along with it, so I think I'll stick here in Tulsa. Ardmore was itchin' to get ridda me anyway."

Soda and Darry and I exchanged looks. For some reason, Soda looked almost pained, probably because the poor girl was fending for herself. He seemed to have a soft spot for things like that. I didn't feel too hot either. She's got a guy up here somewhere. My heart sank.

"Well, where are you guys gonna go?" Darry asked.

"You mean, where am _I _gonna go. She ain't comin' with me, I got my own problems, I gotta find somewhere to stay. I don't have any connections here in Tulsa, or any connections anywhere for that matter, other than Ardmore. Well, she seems alright, I've filled my obligation, so I'm gonna bust. You can find out who she's lookin' for, 'cause she sure as hell wasn't tellin' me."

The guy finished his food and looked ready to leave, but then Darry said, "Hey, kid. Hold up for a sec."

The guy turned back expectantly. "Yeah?"

"What's your name?"

"Ricky. What for?"

"Say you got nowhere to stay?"

"Yeah, what's it to ya?"

Darry cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward over the counter. "Don't get tough with me kid, I was gonna say you could hang with our gang, but if you're gonna be like that you might not be worth our time."

Ricky looked at him pensively for a moment. Finally, he spoke. "Alright..."

"Darry." He motioned to Soda, then me. "This is Sodapop, and this is Ponyboy. You'll meet the other guys—" the screen door creaked open, "—right about now."

This was gonna be good.


	3. Chapter 3

It couldn't have possibly seemed worse for poor Ricky, and at the look on his face I was ready to crack up.

Through that door, came the rest of the gang, Two-Bit and Steve. But trailing them was about half of the Shepard gang, and they were some tough looking guys. Poor Ricky must have thought that they were part of our gang, and just seeing his expression, with his mouth almost to the floor, didn't make me want to correct him.

Darry looked slightly exasperated, and Soda seemed to feel the same way about this as me. It was hilarious to us. The poor guy seemed completely overwhelmed, but then Darry casually stepped between our gang and the Shepards, being somewhat of a dividing line.

"What are you guys doin' here?" he said, addressing the other gang.

From the back, somewhere outside, a guy yelled, "We came to see Curtis!"

"Which one?" Soda yelled back.

"I dunno, send the little one!"

Darry looked at me worriedly, but then Soda leaned over and whispered something in his ear. He nodded. "Go ahead, Ponyboy."

I moved through the crowd, and I felt like Moses, parting the Red Sea. Have you ever walked through a crowd of adolescent guys whose top priority isn't bathing? Yeah, not fun. When I reached the porch, I took a deep breath, and Tim Shepard stood there, arms crossed and an envelope in one hand. He shifted it to his left hand and held out his right, and we shook.

"What do you need, Shepard?"

He grinned, and I noticed how yellow his teeth were. Did he get that from drinking? Smoking? As if on cue, he pulled out a pack, and stuck one in his mouth. "Have a weed?"

Maybe smoking did do that to his teeth...eh, I'll just take this one. Then no more. "Yeah, thanks. So what's up?"

"Well," he said, taking a drag. "I have people all over, and one of them said one of his guys gave this to him, and that I should give it to you."

That sparked some curiosity. "What is it?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Damned if I know. It says 'Do Not Open' and it doesn't look like anyone has, so I ain't gonna be first. Rumor has it, it's from Texas. All I know is that it's been changin' hands for over a month. Must be mighty important." Saying this, he handed the envelope to me. It was thick and a little heavy, at least for an envelope.

"If I were you, I wouldn't open it here," said a voice behind me. I turned to find Darry, leaning against the doorway.

"Uh...okay, Darry." His face was a mixture between worry, curiosity, and suspicion, and even though he always looked worried, I felt like this was actually a time to _be _worried.

"Well, uh, thanks Tim," I said, throwing down my cigarette and stomping it under my heel.

"Yeah, yeah. You're a good kid, Pony. You're lucky to have such a wisecrack here," Tim called to Darry, grinning.

Darry cocked an eyebrow, crossing his arms. I guess everyone looks like Two-Bit when they cock an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, it's about time he starts usin' brain, then he'll get back to you on that."

Shepard laughed. "Hah, good one. Well, the boys and I'll get outta your hair. Catch ya later, grease," he said, winking.

Darry and I trudged back into the house, which was a feat in itself, 'cause with all the Shepard guys leaving it was like walking against a current.

Soda saw us and propped himself up on his elbow. "What was that about?" he asked.

"Tim Shepard gave me an envelope," I said, holding it up for him to see.

He snatched it out of my hand. "Huh. Wonder what it's got in it." He started to open it, but Darry stopped him.

"Let Ponyboy do it. It was given to him, after all."

"Oh. Well, do it Pony," Soda said.

"Yeah!" Two-Bit agreed. "I wanna see the explosion too!"

Darry glanced at the clock. "Actually, c'mon Soda, we're late already. Steve, you wanna ride in the bed? You're already in your work clothes it looks like."

Steve glanced down at himself as if he'd forgotten, which wouldn't have surprised me. The guy's a nimrod, honestly. I hate Steve. I really do.

"Yeah, I'll hop in the back. Can Sodapop ride there too?"

"Sodapop's driving."

"Oh. Okay, I'll just go be lonely back there." This said, he made a spectacle of hanging his arms in the pretense that he was moping, and then grabbed the side of the our old Ford, flipping himself into the bed. His "_Ouch, dammit!_" was very audible.

Soda buttoned up his shirt, grinning, and ran for the truck. As Darry passed me, I could swear I heard him say, "Idiot."

Right before Darry left, he yelled, "Careful, it's gonna snow today; a lot, so you'll need to bring in some of the firewood and put in the wood stove!" Then the truck pulled out, and yep—it began to snow. Oh geez. I had a lot of work to do today.

Red poked her head through the bathroom door. "Are all the guys gone?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Now it's just me and Two-Bit, and that Ricky fella. And you." Gosh now I felt stupid. Duh, she knew she was here. And she's not a guy. I wanted to smack myself.

I noticed how long her hair was. Glory, it must've been past her waist. And there was something else odd about it, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Okay, great, thanks..." She snatched the clean clothes off the floor, and after five minutes came out fully dressed. She was wearing a navy-blue t-shirt of mine that had the sleeves cut off, and a pair of my old jeans she had to wear her belt with. Even in a baggy shirt and jeans that were too long, Red looked good. The t-shirt was real big on her, even tucked in, so luckily it didn't press tight and reveal anything...I cursed myself as I felt my face get hot.

She turned her head inquisitively. "Why do you always get red? Is it me, or do you normally do that?"

I opened my mouth, but then Two-Bit came in and threw an arm around me. "Well, what fine lady do you have here, Pony my boy?" he asked, grinning and checking her out.

I cut in, "She's not—"

"I'm Red," she said, holding out her hand for a shake. Two-Bit, though, grabbed it, leaned down, and planted a kiss on it. Ah, geez.

"And I, little lady, am Lord Two-Bit, esquire," he said, bowing. Red cracked a smile.

He straightened up, letting go of her hand, but making a point of looking her up and down. "Wow, Pony, you must be doing real good, she's wearing your clothes and everything."

Red laughed merrily, but I fumed, going over to the wood stove in the corner and loading in the last few logs, then slamming it harder than necessary.

"Aww, c'mon Pony, I ain't doin' no harm, calm down. I was just complimenting you on the fine friend you have here. 'Cause damn, she really is a looker." Did he have to swear in front of a girl?

Red smiled though, her laugh tinkling again. Boy, she had a pretty laugh."Thanks, Two-Bit," she said.

"Of course. But less talk, more food! I could eat a horse, but instead, I'll just resort to eating like one." He got the last of the bacon and eggs, and Red sat down to finish what was dished out earlier.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, Red, if you want to get your long—I mean—your hair, to uh, fry—uh, dry—faster, you could—"

"Go sit by the stove? You're right, good idea." She smiled at me, and got up to sit on the couch next to the stove in the corner. Let me tell you, her smile could make you melt quicker than candle wax.

Two-Bit looked to me and did his signature expression, cocking his brow. "Smart girl you got there, Ponyboy."

I nodded absently. Then... "Wait, no, no, you've got it all wrong, she's hurt, she got pounced by a couple o' Socs, so Soda brought her in and put her in my bed—" Two-Bit's eyebrow flew even higher, "—she needed to clean up, take a shower and she didn't have extra clothes, and oh glory, Two-Bit you're embarrassing her and me—" but his laughter cut me off.

"I don't think...I know anyone who...can get...as red as you can, Ponyboy," he said, heaving with laughter.

I looked over to Red, who was looking at me, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh. Two-Bit was practically cackling. _That's it_, I thought. Then, without warning, I gave him a a left hook to jaw. His face changed from amusement to surprise as he fell backward, catching himself on the kitchen counter. His hand flew to his jaw, cupping it. My gaze shifted subconsciously to Red. Her mouth was in a wide O again. I instantly felt bad.

"Ow, Pony. I didn't know it bugged you that bad." He rubbed his jaw, where I could already see a bruise blackening his skin. "Glory kid, you sure can pack a punch, you should have gone out for boxing instead of track."

"Sorry Two-Bit, I just..."

"S'alright kid, I shouldn'a been teasin' you."

I held out a hand to pull Two-Bit up, but he brushed it off. I tried cocking an eyebrow at him, and he grinned, grabbing my hand, hefting himself up.

He turned to Red, who looked at us like we were nuts. I couldn't help grinning at that.

"Are you guys always like this?" she asked.

Two-Bit actually looked prideful. "Yes, ma'am. Always."

She half-smiled, rolling her eyes. "So is that your real name?"

"Which one?" Two-Bit and I said together.

Red shrugged. "Both of you, either of you."

"Well," I started, "Ponyboy is my real name. Ponyboy Michael Curtis. It says so on my birth certificate and everything."

This seemed to bother her. And that bothered me. "What's wrong with my name?"

She frowned, but then half-smiled again. She has the prettiest smile. "Nothing at all. It's unique. I like it. What about you, Two-Bit?"

"Oh, I like it fine," he said, his gray eyes on her.

She rolled her eyes again. "No, I mean, is Two-Bit your real name?"

"Huh? Oh—yeah, it is now," he winked. "But I let pretty girls call me whatever they want."

She giggled. Huh. She didn't really seem like the giggling type. But her laugh made me smile, and Two-Bit must've noticed, because he said, "Pony, what're you grinnin' like a nut for?"

It dropped off my face like grease. "Nothing."

"Well, my hair's all dry now," Red said, sitting upright.

The locks swung up around her arms, about to her elbows, where they hung in loose curls. Now I saw what was so odd. Her hair was almost black at the top, and slowly it was gradient until it reached white blonde at the tips. Red must have noticed me staring, because she cocked an eyebrow at me. I swear, the whole lot of them are turning into Two-Bit.

"Is there a problem, boys?"

I looked over at Two-Bit to see that he was staring too, his mouth open a little. "Your hair is so long..." he mumbled.

She picked at one of the locks. "Oh, this? Good heavens, no." That's when she stood up, and Two-Bit made a sound and fell into a chair. I didn't blame him. I didn't even bother hiding my dumbfounded expression when she stood up, because she had so much hair. It was long, down to her hips, and there was so much of it, and the colors were so weird...black to brown to blonde to white.

"Why is your hair...?"

"Different colors? Long? Well, that's a rather lengthy story, except it's for the fact that my hair is long because I want it to be. I won't cut off my favorite part of it," she said, picking up an piece of it and putting it under her nose, like a white mustache. Red grinned.

I noticed how perfect Red's teeth were, straight and pearly-white.

"Well, enough of this, I noticed you have chores to do," she said, her hands flying back and gathering her hair as she began to work with it. Her hands moved fast. "So, we need cut up wood and do laundry. You take one, I'll take the other, good?" she said, slowly sinking to her knees, her hands working even faster. She then put her wrist to her teeth and yanked off an elastic band, her hand disappearing behind her again.

"You don't have to help—" I started, but as Red stood up, her face contorted and she inhaled sharply, her hand flying to her side.

Two-Bit and I rushed over to her. "I...do have...to help, after you...took care of me," Red groaned, her face beginning to pale.

I ignored that. "Where does it hurt?" I asked.

"Right...here..." she breathed, tracing a line from her right rib down and over to her left side, above her hip.

"Mind if I...?" Two-Bit asked.

She nodded. "Go ahead."

I picked her up and moved her to the couch, laying her down gently. Two-Bit pulled up her shirt a little, so nothing showed. I was relieved, until I saw what was causing her pain.

There was a long gash that cut across Red's midsection, and it wasn't too deep, but deep enough to hurt. The skin around it was bruised even.

"Did those...Socs...do this to you?" Two-Bit asked, his voice quavering with anger.

She nodded, her eyes closed and her mouth in a tight line. "They had a switchblade...and they just came at me, and I backed up, and that's why my face is fully intact. "

Two-Bit looked as angry as I'd ever seen him, but he tried to speak calmly. "Damn Socs. They should go back to the pit in hell that they came from."

"Two-Bit—"

"I know, Pony, but it's not fair."

That's when Red cut in, "If it's escaped your notice," her jaw clenched. "Life isn't fair." Her eyes opened and stared into mine. The blue ice in them seemed to cut into me, beautiful but deadly at the same time. I could almost feel the cold they seemed to radiate, so wickedly familiar. I dropped my gaze.

"What, Pony?" Red asked softly. "You, of all people, should know that things are rough all over."

That's when Ricky poked his head in the door. His medium-brown hair had snowflakes scattered through it like real bad dandruff. A cold wind came through the door, chilling us and making some of the snow fall out of his hair. Despite the dark conversation, I bit back a snicker. Ricky just looked at me funny-like.

"It's snowing pretty hard—"

"We noticed," Two-Bit muttered.

"—and it's already gatherin'. If you need to cut wood, you'd better get to it." He scooted out the door, and it slammed.

But Two-Bit called, "Hey! Couldn't you figure on helpin' out a little? Ponyboy here let you in his house over the night—"

"Nah, Two-Bit, it's alright, I got this."

"No, you should get a little help, you could use it. Do you have bandages?"

"Yeah, I reckon we do. I'll go get some."

I headed to the bathroom and popped open the medicine cabinet, and took out a bottle of alcohol and a small measure of bandage wrap. Not enough. We needed more, but didn't have a way to get more.

I took the bandages and alcohol to Two-Bit, and he grabbed the towel Red had used for her hair, and turned the alcohol bottle onto it, pressing tightly. The alcohol darkened the towel in a ring around the bottle, and I pitied Red even more. This was gonna hurt.

"Are you ready?" Two-Bit asked. She nodded, biting her lip.

He took a deep breath. "Well here goes..." and pressed it to the wound.

She sucked in a breath and bit her lip even harder, but didn't cry out. I winced though. I've had enough cuts in my days to know that this hurt like heck. Red's eyes locked on mine, and through the tears starting to pool, the chilling blue bit me. The green and gray flecks seemed to move and dance around her irises. Why did her eyes seem so familiar?

"Okay, I need more bandages. Can you go get some, Pony?"

"No, I'll get them," Ricky cut in. "I need to get a look around town."

Two-Bit seemed skeptical, and we exchanged uneasy glances. He seemed to think about it, then said, "Alright, kid." He patiently gave the directions. "And hurry up."

Ricky nodded and left.

"Well, I'm going to go start bringing in that wood."

"Alright, I'll stick here with the princess, and keep an eye on her."

"Thanks, Two-Bit," we said simultaneously. Red laughed, then winced. I didn't blame her.

I pushed open the screen door, and went around to the back of the house, where the wood was stacked against the place, under a tarp so it wouldn't get too wet. I grabbed the ax underneath, positioned a log, and began to cut. I must have cut there for hours, the sun was past the noon point.

I used an old trick for telling how many hours of daylight there were left, stacking my fists on top of one another from the horizon until I reached the sun. Four. This time of year, that means it's about three in the afternoon.

I decided I'd just take in what I had, and start on my other chores. I looked down to see how much I would have to carry, and that's when I realized I must have really zoned out, because I had split most of the wood in the pile.

I stood there for a minute, dumbfounded, then just began stacking wood back up until there was only the amount I needed left. I tried to carry all of it in one trip, and I can say I was lucky that I didn't kill myself. I staggered through the door and dumped all the wood next to the stove.

I turned to find Red on the floor, tangled in blankets, and Two-Bit slumped in the armchair, both breathing deeply. Ricky was nowhere to be seen.

I knelt next to Red, and her face was, I'll admit it, she was beautiful. So peaceful. Her mouth was open slightly, and her cheeks were a little pink. I pressed my hand to one of them, and almost flinched in surprise. She was ice-cold.

She stirred, and I pulled my hand back quickly, but she didn't wake. Slowly, I eased my arms under her and all the blankets, and lifted her, surprised again by how little she weighed, like a hollow barrel. I tried to walk softly without bouncing her, and took her into my room and lowered her gently onto the bed.

But then her content expression was replaced by a grimace. "No...Dallas...please...Dally...don't..."

I froze. No. No. This wasn't happening. Dally. Dally. The name echoed through my head, from her quiet whisper until it seemed as if someone was yelling it.

_Stop. Forget. You don't know who this is. You've never met anyone by this name. Forget. Forget._

Red bolted upright, her face gleaming with a sheen of sweat, and before I knew it, she grabbed onto me and pulled me down onto the bed, and began sobbing into my shirt. Her knuckles were white as she gripped me, and I vaguely noticed nicks and scars on them.

Without knowing anything better to do, I put my arms around her. I could feel her shaking, and Red sounded so pained that I began to feel horrible. It felt like this was my fault, even though I had nothing to do with it.

"Oh Ponyboy, he left because of me. It was me. I should have done something, but I was selfish and blind, and—oh Ponyboy!" she cried.

I hugged Red tightly. Then words that came out next weren't mine. "Red, it'll all be clear in the end. Just know you're not alone...you're home now."

She stopped crying, but stayed pressed against me, quivering like a puppy who'd been hit too much. I rubbed her back slowly, and we stayed like that for a long time, and I think I might have fallen asleep at one point.

When Soda came home, he found us like that, and he didn't look surprised. I realized Two-Bit must have told him, at one point I know he was standing in the doorway, even though I had my back to it. Soda lifted Red off of me, and I noticed how freezing cold she was, and how cold even Soda was.

He pushed me down. "Go to sleep Pony, you've got a fever."

I didn't say anything, just let him pull the covers over us, and closed my eyes.

"That kid, I'm tellin' you, he does better than all of us, and he doesn't even have to hustle," I heard Two-Bit say.

"Nah...I think he's been sicker than he lets on, even to himself," Darry said back. Huh...I didn't even know Darry was home yet. I wanted to open my eyes to see how dark it was out, but I couldn't muster the will or energy to do it.

"Yeah, but you should see the way he looks at her. Like she was the eighth wonder of the world," Two-Bit replied.

"Ah, leave my kid brother alone," Soda snapped. "I doubt he likes her, let's just go, Steve's hungry and we need to get dinner started."

"Well, Sodapop," Two-Bit argued. "If he did fancy her, would you blame him? She's the prettiest thing this side of the country."

The last thing I remember was Red wrapping her cold arms around my torso, and the guys all fussing at once as soon as they noticed. I was so tired, I didn't care.


	4. Chapter 4

**Red's POV**

As soon as I heard a voice, I turned to it, wielding the weapon I had so masterfully crafted—a piece of glass, with medical tape on one end as a grip. Pretty clever, I thought.

The person on the other end of my shard held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he said in a somewhat calm voice. I could tell I'd given him a good scare though; a calm voice wouldn't have shook that much.

"What do you want? I don't mind cutting your week into nine days, bub," I replied, jabbing the shard towards his face.

He jerked back, and when he spoke this time, there was no pretense of calamity in his voice. "I was j-just wondering—wondering if you n-needed to b-be walked home."

I looked at him suspiciously, saying nothing.

He laughed nervously. "I'll—I'll take that as a no. Is there anywhere you need to go?"

I lowered my glass "knife" slowly. "Yeah. Tulsa."

"Come again?"

"I need to go to Tulsa," I said slowly. "I need to find some people there."

"Isn't that a bit—"

I held up the glass again. "Tulsa or get the hell outta my way."

He gulped. "Well, I can't just leave a pretty girl alone in the street. Tulsa it is," he laughed nervously.

I beamed. "Great."

I was so glad to get out of that car. It smelled like a place someone used for all their bodily functions, which you can probably guess wasn't a pleasant smell. We had parked in a lot next to a gas station called the DX, and left.

"So, uh...where do you need to be?" He asked as we walked.

"The east side."

He looked puzzled. "But that's _supposedly_ the bad side of the city."

I nodded. "I know. But that's where my brother _supposedly_ lived, so I'm going to find him."

"You said 'lived'."

"That's because I'll be surprised if his stupidity didn't kill him, or end him up in prison."

"You don't seem too keen on him."

I sighed. "Well, he's actually really smart. Too smart for his own good. And he likes to show it off, by letting everyone know he's smart enough to be stupid and get away with it.

"Why did he leave?"

"He and Mother didn't get along. It's complicated."

"Oh. You don't act like a lady, you know that?"

I raised an eyebrow. "When did I ever claim I was a lady?"

He smiled to himself. "Never, I guess. I've just never met a girl who carries a homemade blade."

"It's not homemade. I made it in an alley good and proper."

He grinned. "Touché."

We walked for a long while, until the surrounding neighborhood looked particularly shabby and beaten around, like an old tire that someone had left in the elements for a long time. A shady-looking lady stood on the opposite street corner, wearing a skimpy outfit and watching us with her eyes narrowed.

"This is no place for dumb kids like you!" she shouted over.

"Good," I muttered. "This is where my brother will be then."

Not long after that, the ugliest-colored, like someone puked and threw seaweed into a blender, car pulled up. Two guys got out, and I could remember instantly hating them. They were obviously spoiled, filthy rich kids that had more time than they knew what to do with, so they decided to do their worst to people like us. They had stopped right in the middle of the street, probably just to show everyone around them how much they didn't care.

The guys started coming towards us, and we stopped walking.

"Well lookee here, Mikey. Looks like we got ourselves a pretty little girl. Too bad she's got grease stuck to her."

I looked down at my jacket before I realized they were talking about the guy I with. I never really paid attention, but I realized the guy I'd been hanging out with for several days was a greaser. His dark brown hair was slicked back, and he wore a leather jacket and always had a cigarette. He was a hood. Then it occurred to me then that I had never bothered to learn his name. Oops.

"Well we could do something about that," Mikey said slyly, grinning. "Say girly, if you come with us, we won't kill your friend here."

"Leave her alone." my guy said.

"Or what, grease? You gonna change our oil by wringing your hair?" the other one asked. They laughed like it was a good joke.

"Stop it! Leave us alone!" I said contemptuously. I didn't feel like dealing with this. I didn't feel too hot, I kept coughing and shivering like a skinned polar bear.

"Oh, shut your mouth, you dumb broad."

"Get lost!"

Mikey stopped laughing. "Well, we can play like that," he mused, flicking out a switchblade. It had to be at least six inches.

For the first time in a long time, I was afraid. I was so scared it didn't even occur to me to get my shard of glass, but then again, much good it would have done. I looked around to see if there was someone, anyone, who could help us. That's when I spotted a guy about four houses down, smoking and looking at us with a vaguely alarmed expression, but it seemed like he didn't want to get involved. We made eye contact, and at that moment, I pleaded like a dog outside in a thunderstorm. He didn't seem to notice, he had looked away.

So I went out on a limb. "Help! Help us, please!"

Mikey surged towards me. "I said _shut—up_!" and tried to slash at my face, but I backed away. The blade whisked across my torso, and I remember vaguely thinking that I had just been knifed, but I didn't have time to worry as I fell in front of their car, hitting my head on the cracked concrete of the street. I registered voices nearby, and I flopped onto my back to try to see what was going on.

Now instead of two guys, there were six. But the new guys were beating up the other ones. One was about my age, with reddish-brown hair that was slicked back, and he was slight but had a good build. He jumped onto Mikey's back, and boy did he look angry. Mikey's face got purple, and another guy, this one had blonde hair that was greased back, started beating the tar of Mikey. I saw yet another guy start to beat up Mikey's friend, and his hair was funny; dark brown, and it kicked out in the front, but you could tell he didn't grease it, and with a big cowlick in the back. He was really muscular, and he reminded me of a football player I had seen somewhere.

The football player knocked his guy down in three hits, but Mikey wouldn't break. Finally my friend was probably getting tired of him, and just pushed the blonde aside and kicked Mikey real hard, right where it hurts. His cheeks puffed out and he doubled, but then he fell backward, right onto the small one, and I heard a big _crack!_ And the blonde rushed over, along with the football player, who heaved the guy off. The two seemed to debate for a minute, before the footballer picked up the kid; his eyes rolled back into his head.

The blonde came over to me, and gave me a grin like a million dollars. Gosh, was he gorgeous, like a movie star. His eyes were a pretty hazel, with caramel and green-colored flecks, almost like gold. They reminded me of a sunset. "C'mon, princess," he said smoothly, lifting me up with ease. "What's your name?"

"Red," I said thickly.

"I wanted your name, not the color of your blood, I can see that very obviously. You're bleedin' like a stuck pig."

"My name is the color of my blood."

"Alright, nice to meet you, The-Color-of-My-Blood," he replied brightly with a smile, taking me into a house. He set me down on the couch.

"Woss that?" yet _another _guy asked, coming in eating a sandwich. "You pick up a broad?"

"Yeah, her name is The-Color-of-My-Blood."

"No weirder than Ponyboy or Sodapop," he shrugged, as the footballer passed us with the other kid, whose tongue was lolling out of his mouth.

He must have been Blondie's brother. Even though their hair were different colors and Blondie's face was a little longer, and his eyes looked mischievous, they looked alike, had the same movie star air about their features.

"Or any weirder than Two-Bit," the blonde replied pointedly, interrupting my thoughts.

He came back with a wet wash towel, and pressed it to my side.

"Glory, li'l lady, you sure got cut good."

"Uh-huh," I said. Stars began to cut into my vision, and I passed out.

I face planted into the floor. Again. I heard someone groan from the kitchen.

"There she goes again," Muscles said, (which is what I'd taken to calling the football player) lifting me up from the floor. I whimpered as he grabbed me around the waist, irritating my gash.

I heard footsteps rush to us. "Be careful, you're grabbin' her right where she got that nasty cut!" I heard Blondie say, pulling me out of the other one's grip. I relaxed as he cradled me in his arms. "You got to be careful with girls, Darry."

"I know!" Muscles, whose name was apparently Darry, responded irately. "I've been around plenty of girls in my day, more than you, even if you do look like Zeus's kid brother."

"Alright, Zeus, I'll be Hades, and that's what you're gonna get if you don't help me out a little. Grab her blankets, I got an idea."

We began moving, and I could smell Blondie's cologne as he shifted me more securely in his arms. He smelled like gasoline and shave lotion and lavender. Odd combination, but it smelled nice.

"Where are you taking her?" Darry asked.

"Pony's room." Pony's room? Was that a stable? Was I going to be put in a stall? I'm pretty sure I'm allergic to hay. I was going to pipe up, but realized I didn't have the energy. I was still asleep...like halfway in, halfway out. Shoot, I hated when this happened. I had to wait until I fell completely asleep, because I couldn't wake up from this if someone held a gun to my head. I always get nervous when I'm like this.

"Darry, she just got all stiff."

"Probably a bad dream."

He stopped. "I don't think so. Red? Yoohoo? Anybody there?" He pressed a hand to my forehead. It was hot. "Glory, she's colder than I thought. You don't think she's got hypothermia?"

"She might. She's awful pale."

"Well, lookee at this then. Feels like Poseidon's got a fever."

"Poseidon?"

"Well you're Zeus and I'm Hades, your kid brother, so he can be Poseidon, my kid brother."

"I'm pretty sure Hades was the kid. Or Zeus."

"Or Poseidon. Whatever," he said as I felt myself being lowered onto a bed. I felt an arm drop over my neck, hot as the sun; it felt nice. There was something warm next to me, and without meaning to I pressed up against it, shivering. It felt really nice.

"Geez, Sodapop, did you have to put his arm over her? Now look."

"Calm down," Sodapop, who was Blondie, said gruffly. "She's just getting warm."

I didn't realize I was pressed up against a person, or a boy at that. When I'm in this awake-sleep thing, I don't think. I don't really know what's going on, and I don't remember it after, ever.

I dreamed of them. That gang, ransacking our house, looking for our father. They were the fathers of grease, but so much worse, they were like hoods without a single moral in the world, demons, their only purpose: to cause utter grief and chaos. They were the embodiment of everything Pandora let out of her box. They were so greasy they slid when they walked.

This is how I saw them, when they came around our home, when I was only a kid, a four year old. My brother's birthday was the next day; he was going to be seven. Mom thought this was his fault, the gang coming by and destroying our home and possessions, looking for our father. My father had left a long time ago, he wasn't hiding here. He had something they wanted, but no one knew what it was but for them and him.

She was deathly sick, she couldn't tell reality from fantasy, and she thought that my big brother had lured the men here, and she would beat him, furiously, and he would only grit his teeth, he never cried or even whimpered.

He was tired of her blaming him, and I remember him telling me, "Red, I've got to do something. She's getting to be too much. I can't take the beating any longer. I've either got to kill her or leave. And I can't kill my ma. You know I couldn't do that."

_Can I come with you?_

"No, you can't come. You need to stay and take care of Ma. She wouldn't lay a finger on you."

_But I don't want to be without you._

"Red, it's for the best. I'm not gonna tell you when I'm leaving, you might try to follow me. You can't handle that. I know you'd never find me, because I'm going to go as far as I can. Even if I have to break the law to do it."

_Do you have what they're looking for? Mom says you do..._

"Yeah, I have it. But I'm gonna hide it."

_Why do they want it?_

"Not they. He. He's just using them because he's the leader of a gang, and things get done faster with more hands. Why does he want it? I don't know. I have a notion, but I don't know for sure. I just have to make sure they don't get it. Dad said so. I'm sore at Dad for leaving us, but he said not to give it up no matter what. And if he's—if he's—" he choked up, and I wrapped my arms around him.

_But what will you do once you're gone? Who's gonna take care of you?_

He smiled ruefully. "I'll take care of me. Or I might...nothing. I'll be okay though."

Silence. _Alright, I trust you. I love you more than anyone in the whole world_.

"I love you too, Red. You're the best kid sister a guy could ask for."

And he left that night. I thought he would wait a week or two, but he left that night. On the nightstand, he had left a letter, and a beautiful necklace, a sphere of diamond holding a small flower in the middle, one that the cuts on the diamond gave many faces. It rested perfectly in the hollow of my throat, and I loved it.

The letter read, _I'm sorry I had to leave, I promise I'm already a hundred miles away at least, so don't try to follow me. The necklace is for you, a family heirloom (an heirloom, pronounced air-loom, is something that a family keeps for a while. You're four, I didn't know if you'd know that word, but I taught you pretty well, so you probably did) that Dad passed on to me—it belonged to his mother—to give to you when you were old enough. You probably aren't old enough, but this is the only chance I'll have to give it to you, so I had to do it now. I'm so sorry. But when you see the diamond, remember me. You're the little daisy in the middle, and I'm the diamond. If you ever get in trouble, look at it and remember that I was there to protect you, and I still will, even if it's not in ways you can see. I'm sorry for leaving you. I had to do it to protect you, and protect me. That gang will come over. Tell them that I left for good, and make sure you bawl when you say it. If they ask where, say Florida, that we have family there, even though we don't. I'm not actually going there either, so don't get ideas on trying to follow me there. Too humid for me—I'd rather drink water than breathe it, thanks very much. I love you. Stay safe, don't do anything stupid. I love you._

_Love, Cowboy _

Cowboy was the nickname Dad had affectionately given him. I remembered Dad so well, his golden eyes and love for the rodeo held outside the nearby little Pennsylvanian town, New Wilmington. I think he loved it almost more than he loved Ma. He was really young when he married Ma, only sixteen. They were the same age when they got married, and had my brother only a year later.

When she found out my brother left, Mother wasn't fazed. She was glad. She didn't care that her son was gone for forever. That's when I left too. I couldn't bear her by myself. She began to take out her frustration on me. If my brother came back, I would've stayed, but I knew he wouldn't come back. It was painfully obvious, when he wanted to leave and not come back, he would. I knew he didn't want to come back. He always got what he wanted.

When I woke up, the younger boy whose tongue lolled out of his mouth was standing in front of me, his shirt off and his back turned. I couldn't help admiring how muscled he was for such a slight kid, but there were odd patches of skin on his back that were paler than the rest of skin, and then it occurred to me—these were scars. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were scars from burns. I wonder how he got them, how he got burned that badly...

He turned around then, and I quickly pretended to be asleep. I could feel his eyes on me, and I had to try to keep from fidgeting. I heard him sigh in...what? He sighed funny-like... I heard him start to leave the room, with crinkles of plastic, and I thought he was gone, and began to open my eyes. Suddenly he was there again, falling over a pile of books.

What I did next, I didn't even think of, it just happened. I bolted upright, pulling my glass shard from only Lord knows where and shoving it towards him. For a moment, all he did was stare at me with his mouth open, and I looked into his eyes and lost focus a little.

His eyes looked like his brother, Sodapop's, in a weird way, but instead of a light brown with green, gray, and blue flecks, it was like someone had just shuffled the colors. This boy's eyes were gray, but with a scattering of blue and green flecks, mostly green, to the point you actually couldn't decided if his eyes were really green or gray.

He must have lost his balance, because he fell back into the wall. After he caught himself, he raised his hands in surrender. "_Hey_! I need a little help!"

Footsteps rushed in, and Blondie—I mean Sodapop—came through the doorway. He looked at me, then moved his eyes to his brother. The kid shrugged, and mouthed something at his brother. Don't ask me what though, I don't read lips.

Sodapop must have understood it, because he nodded, then turned to me with his hands up. "Calm down, this is my brother, Ponyboy. He's an okay kid, I promise." Suddenly he grinned like a movie star. "Probably better than the rest of us, honestly. He's a real sweet kid, just ease up, he won't lay a finger on you."

My eyes darted between them. The kid looked scared out of his wits, and Sodapop tried to look serious, but it seemed like he was trying not to laugh at the situation. They were both a lot more muscled than the boys where I came from, and even with my glass knife, I don't think I'd hold them off long. Besides, they both seemed to want to help, not hurt, and a girl can't deny that of two good-looking guys.

Ponyboy chuckled as if he could read my mind.

"I don't know her n—" Sodapop began, but I instantly said, "I'm Red." Sodapop raised an eyebrow and grinned, and I couldn't help smiling back. He really was the best-looking guy I had ever seen, unless his little brother was in the equation. They both looked like movie-stars.

Suddenly Sodapop turned to his brother and said, "What's up?"

I looked at Ponyboy, and he was shaking his head, his face as red a beet.

"Alright," Sodapop said, shrugging.

Ponyboy turned to me nervously and asked, "So...are you, uh, hungry?"

Wow, boys can sure be cute when they're nervous. I nodded, smiling. "Definitely. I haven't eaten in...a while." When was the last time I had eaten? I didn't even remember.

Sodapop piped up, "Alright, I just made bacon and eggs with cheese, and we have chocolate milk and cake, too," he added, grinning.

Ponyboy looked incredulous. "Bacon? Where did you get bacon?"

I ignored that, and smiled. "I think I'll pass on the cake, but the rest sounds great." I began to get out of bed, but my gash screamed at me, and my body was all stiff. Ponyboy and Sodapop practically teleported to my side, their faces heavy with concern.

"No. I'm okay. I'm okay." I wasn't okay. It hurt like hell, and I don't say that unless it really hurt, I don't use bad language like that. Ponyboy didn't seem to believe me one bit. He held out a hand to help me up, and I couldn't help looking at him in admiration. I took it, and he hoisted me up easy-as-pie.

"Thanks," I said, my face hot.

"No problem," he said shyly, smiling. Seriously, why are nervous guys so attractive?

I tried to move, but between the mess and being so dizzy, my mind was like, _nope._ Ponyboy ended up carrying me. He was strong, he lifted me like nothing, and he was so surprised he almost dropped me. He swung me a little as he carried me, like rocking a baby to sleep, and it was weird for me because I fit so well in arms. He smelled nice, like lavender and cinnamon. He gently set me down in a chair in the kitchen, and I almost felt sad that he wasn't swinging me around anymore. It was like a small-scale fun-ride, even if it had made me a little woozy. Or that might've been him that did that. He went over to the cupboard to get utensils, and I glanced at the food. It looked delicious.

"You didn't have to carry me, you know," I piped up.

He didn't move for a moment, his hand hovering with a knife. Nice. Finally, he shrugged. "Wasn't a problem. The civil thing to do."

I couldn't help it then, but I laughed coldly. "Civil. Haven't heard that word applied in a long time."

He tensed, but said nothing.

Soda reappeared. "Oy, Ponyboy!" he grinned. I don't know why, but when he said the name it hit a nerve. I remembered Cowboy... "Guess I don't need you to tell you to set the plates." He turned to me. "Do you need to wash up? I could get you a towel."

I drummed my fingers on the table. I don't even remember the last time I had a hot shower. I nodded. "That would be great." He came back a minute later, tossing me a towel that I almost dropped. "Thanks. Um...what about—"

"A change of clothes?" Muscles cut in, coming to the table and buttoning up his shirt. Holy hot tamales. He lived up to the nickname I had given him. He had abdominal muscles you could use as a washboard. "You could borrow some stuff from us," he said. "And if _someone _does laundry today, we can wash your clothing.

Ponyboy began to protest, but Darry shushed him. Um...awkward. I coughed and went to the bathroom. A towel and change of clothes was on the counter. The clothes were too big, but I figured I could just tuck stuff in. I took off my necklace and set it on the counter, and undressed, throwing my dirty clothes into a hamper under the sink. After that I just showered quickly, making sure to scrub the daylights out of my skin and get rid of an eternity's worth of grime.

I got out, dried off, and put on the new clothes, and I don't know how, but they _had _girl underwear. I decided to just not think about why that was, and dressed. The shirt was a dark midnight blue t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. It would have fit tightly on a guy like Darry, but practically drowned me. I tucked it into the pants, and they were still so loose that I had to put my belt on them. The clothes smelled like lavender and cinnamon, with just a hint of gasoline and cedar, so I had no clue whose they were.

I heard a ruckus of guys so I didn't come out until they left, then continued my day, which was painful and weird and new to me. At one point, Ponyboy left to go get wood, and I chatted with Two-Bit for a while, who told me about the town and the Socs (for which he had many, many, colorful adjectives).

Finally I sort of dozed off while talking to him, I must really have been tired. I began having a nightmare, but I can't remember _now_ what it was about, only that it was horrible.

I bolted upright, and I was freezing cold and scared. Ponyboy was next to me, and his face looked alarmed. I didn't think after that, just grabbed him and started crying into him, getting his shirt completely soaked. For a while he didn't move and was as stiff as a board, but I didn't care, he was warm and real and there. Finally, he put his arms around me, and I was wrapped in his lavender smell, and he was talking softly, but I don't think he realized it, he seemed to be in a daze. I talked and he talked and we didn't seem to hear ourselves or each other. Occasionally he rubbed my back, and eventually I stopped crying, and went into one of my half-sleeps, but this time I was okay with being half-asleep. I was scared to go completely asleep for fear that I'd have another nightmare, and didn't want the tensity of being awake.

I knew Two-Bit was in the doorway at one point, he muttered something about Ponyboy heading towards being a real hustler. I don't know how much time we spent tangled there like that, but at one point Ponyboy had just lifted me into his lap and he held me there. I felt someone lift me up after a while, and I wanted to protest but I was stuck. I felt cold and weak now, but they set me back down on the bed, and I could feel the heat waves pulsing off of Ponyboy. I felt weight on the other side of the bed, and Sodapop's voice say, "Go to sleep Pony, you've got a fever."

Pony didn't respond, but Sodapop pulled the covers over us and I was pressed against him. I heard several guys' voices, and they talked about Ponyboy being sick and the way he looked at me, which I didn't quite get, and pretty girls. I wrapped my arm around Ponyboy unconsciously, and fell asleep like that.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, I was suddenly blinded as the sun spontaneously hit me in the face. I threw an arm over my eyes and rolled over on instinct, but then realized too late that was a bad idea as I fell to the floor.

I heard someone chuckle.

"You won't be laughin' when I'm through with you," I said groggily, tossing a pillow towards the window.

"Sure I will," Sodapop grinned, doing a belly-flop onto the bed.

"Where's Red?"

Soda turned sour. "Don't say good mornin' or nothin'. What's the deal with her anyway? Do you fancy her, or...?"

I felt my face get hot. "Never said that, did I?"

Soda frowned. "You don't have to," he said, pulling me up. "It's sort of obvious."

"Well why are you so sour about it anyway?" I asked, throwing the blankets back onto the bed.

"Never said that, did I?" he snapped, grabbing the pillow and throwing it onto the bed. His face softened. "I guess I am bein' a little sore. I don't know why though..."

I stretched. "Shouldn't you be at work today, anyway?" I yawned.

"Nah, it's Sunday. Station's closed on Sundays."

"Oh yeah," I said, as a tantalizing smell met my nose. "Darry making breakfast?"

Soda shook his head. "Nope, Red is. She seems to have way too much fun with it too."

"Sounds like you," I said, walking towards the kitchen, when I realized I _could _walk towards the kitchen. The floor was spotless, the carpet visible.

"Did..."

"I clean?" Soda cut in. "Yeah, decided to make the little lady's life less hazardous. And ours."

"Huh...it's nice being able to walk in here, instead of hurdling."

Soda laughed. "Yeah, it's real nice."

I went to the kitchen to see Darry chatting animatedly to Red as she balanced a pineapple on her head and flipped an egg. She had all her regular clothes back, and her hair was down, reaching almost her thighs. Why did it get longer every time I looked at it? Then I remembered the pineapple.

"Darry!" I blurted, rushing over to retrieve the pineapple.

He stopped. "What?"

"What the heck are you trying to do, let her scald herself?!" I said, holding out the pineapple.

He stared at in in amazement. "Where did you get a pineapple?"

Darr—" I began, but Red interrupted me.

"You mean, where did _I _get a pineapple? Well, I have an odd way of acquiring things I want without people noticing."

Darry looked at her in aghast disbelief. "You stole a pineapple? When did you get the chance to steal a pineapple?"

"Correction," Ricky called from the living room. "I stole the pineapple, she said she was hungry for pineapple and..." he shrugged. "I just decided to get one. I was hungry for pineapple too. Hope that doesn't bother you...?"

"Scallywaggin' rogues, the whole lot of 'em," Darry muttered, flipping open the newspaper.

I looked to the counter, remembering the letter lying there that we had gotten yesterday. It completely slipped my mind yesterday after...I glanced over at Red, but she seemed to have no recollections of it, or qualms with life for that matter. Happy-go-lucky, just like Sodapop. Aside from yesterday's events.

I looked up again to find the entire gang there, staring at me, some of them grinning. Glory, I wanted to collapse on the spot.

Two-Bit came to sit on the counter in front of me. "So, Pony, you certainly had a blast yesterday," he mused, wiggling his eyebrows and smirking.

"Shut up, Two-Bit, before I knock that smirk right off your face."

"Well he _is _right," Steve countered. "I think every one of us saw you and little Red cuddling."

Red turned, frying pan in hand. "What? I heard my name."

"They were talking about you and Ponyboy 'cuddling'," Ricky chirped.

She looked thoughtful for a moment, and the gang watched her with bated breath. Their eyes were wide as saucers, even Darry.

Red turned back to the stove. "For all intents and purposes, I guess you could call it that."

"_HAH!_" Steve and Two-Bit shouted together.

I didn't know what to say, so I just fell into a chair, stupefied. She hadn't even tried to deny it. Oh golly, this was a mess. I looked to Soda for help, but he looked sorer than ever, and kind of dumbfounded too. Steve and Two-Bit weren't helping matters by dancing around chanting, "Pony has a girlfriend, Pony has a girlfriend," and "Ponyboy and Red, kissin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

Red didn't seem all too keen on that, though, and pulled a mixing bowl and large spoon out of the cupboard. She hit the bowl with the spoon, and that got their attention better than anything. "Okay, Two-Bit, chill. You too, Steve. Sodapop, quit looking like you're on your man-period. Ricky and Darry, thank you for remaining respectful, civil human beings. Steve, Two-Bit; You're embarrassing the living daylights out of Ponyboy, just look at him—" they averted their gaze to me, and began muffling their snickering. "—_and_ I'm not Pony's girlfriend." That shut them up, and I thought we could get back to a normal day before she quietly added, "Not yet, anyways." She gave me a look of evil humor.

Then they broke out cackling again. I went to the kitchen table, and plopped into a chair huffily. Red had set a plate for me, and had made pineapple omelets for everyone. Surprisingly, it was actually really good, even though I had expected it to be kind of gross. But Soda didn't really like omelet, he just ate the one I made from lack of anything better. It seems she must've read my mind then, because she gave him sunny-side up eggs with grape jelly, his favorite. I looked at her confoundedly, and she just shrugged, swinging the empty frying pan around on her finger.

Soda and Darry took seats at the table, while the other guys just sat on the counters and ate. Red sat in between me and Soda (who seemed to have taken Red's words into consideration, and looked remotely cheery), and it looked like she had made about three omelets for herself. Darry and I raised an eyebrow at each other. There was no way she could eat all of that, not a girl that small. But boy, were we wrong. She not only ate it all, but finished before all of us. The rest of the guys realized she was done with her food as she got up and began washing dishes at the sink, and we just sorta sat there with our mouths open.

"Why so quiet?" Red asked.

Soda grinned. "No reason. It's just that we've never seen a girl pack away a meal like that."

Laughter bubbled out of her. "I think that's just because I haven't had a hot meal in..." she looked thoughtful. "...a long time," she finished. "Sorry. Wasn't very ladylike."

"Oh, you're talking to a bunch of oxes who eat like horses," Soda replied.

"I think it's oxen," Darry added as an afterthought.

"Whatever. Red, you don't have to wash dishes," Soda said, standing up with his plate cleared. "That's the rule. Normally, when it's just the three us of, the first one up cooks breakfast and the other two do dishes. Darry and I'll do the dishes."

"Oh, c'mon, after the burden I've been, I insist."

"Nope. Got to abide by the rules, Missy."

She bit her lip, and I think all the guys must've started to smolder. Girls sure can be cute when they're nervous. "Well, then what can I do? Anything outside would be great, I hate bein' cooped up in the house, not that I'm not grateful, but I really do better after goin' outside, I mean—"

"Hush yourself," Darry said, standing with his plate. "I'm sure we can find something, but you gotta be careful outside; the West Side's population has it in for us," he added bitterly. "You'd have to take a couple o' guys with you where you went, which I'll say should be the grocery store. The cupboards are practically bare, and we haven't had the time to shop. It's like we have little demons that eat our food. And their names are Steve, and Two-Bit."

"Hey! What about Ricky and Red?" Steve protested.

"Red is making food," Darry replied, "and Ricky stole that pineapple."

Two-Bit rolled his eyes. "Steal a pineapple and you're golden."

I stiffened. "Don't say that."

Red seemed to know there was something wrong. "What's up, Ponyboy?"

I just shook my head. My eyes stung. _Stop. Don't remember. Don't remember. _They were all silent for a while.

"Well, what about that letter?" Two-Bit chirped. I had forgotten about it, but now curiosity was stirring amongst the guys.

"Yeah, why don't we have a look?" Ricky added. "Who were those guys anyway?"

"One of the other gangs nearby," Soda said over the clink of plates. "The Shepard outfit. Another one is the them boys from Brumly, and of course there are a couple named gangs around, Tiber Street Tigers, River Kings," he added.

"I've heard of them. I'm just from Ardmore, you know."

"It looks like another gang is starting to form though. There are a bunch of younger guys who gather on street corners on the other side of East. They seem okay though, Stevie and I talked to them a bit. Thank gosh there isn't any rivalry around here."

"I thought you guys didn't get along with the West Side," Ricky wondered thoughtfully.

"That's different," Two-Bit said nonchalantly. "That's a rivalry between social classes, not gangs. This isn't New York. We don't get along with Socs because they're nothing but—" he called them every unprintable name under the sun.

"Hey, watch your vocabulary, we have a lady in our ranks now," Darry reminded him.

Red sighed. "I wish you guys would stop thinking of me as a lady. I'm not like any lady I've ever met. I don't wear dresses or skirts, blubber over guys, or have a love for the color pink. And I don't mind slicing a guy who says otherwise to ribbons."

"Gee, didn't know you were that sensitive about it," Steve muttered.

Red shrugged. "I didn't have time to learn to be a lady as a kid. My dad and my brother left me." she seemed angry as she reminisced. "And my no-good mother didn't give a _damn _about me after they left, and I eventually left too. I needed to find my brother." She then realized what she said, and clapped her hands over her mouth. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to swear, I don't normally do that—" she stopped.

"It's alright," Soda said, wrapping an arm around her. "Anyone'll slip every once in a while."

Everyone exchanged nonplussed glances, but I just looked down at my worn-out Converses. Steve elbowed me, but I just punched in him the ribs, and I could hear the air escape his lungs. I hit him harder than I thought. Oops, ha-ha, sorry-not-sorry. I felt Steve glaring at me, but I didn't care.

"Where are you from?"

"Pittsburgh," she said after a moment.

Darry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Pennsylvania? Aren't you awfully far from home? How'd you manage that?"

Red shrugged. "I'm sneaky, and I could talk someone into giving me their wallet if I wanted to. It was easy to hop trains, hitch rides. There's lots of trains in Pittsburgh, and hopping was easy. I did what my brother said he would do: get as far as I could in any direction but east. East would be too close, take me to the seaboard, and then I'd only be able to go south to get as far as possible. Then I'd eventually reach the coast there. What can I say, I'm stubborn. I decided to go west. I figured that's where my brother would have gone. He wanted to get as far from home as possible. For a while though, I know he went north, he had to, at least that's what my lead told me."

"Who was your lead?" Ricky asked. He seemed to know some of this already.

"A hobo," Red grinned. "He saw my brother hopping trains, and I never would have known, except he said we had the same eyes, and at the time, the same hair color. A lead in New York City brought me to Oklahoma, and a lead in"

"At the time? What color was that?" Two-Bit asked.

"This one," Red replied, reaching behind her and snatching a piece of hair. "The white on the end, that was what color our hair was, just like our mother. That's why my hair is so long, why I never cut it. It started to grow out darker and darker, but I loved the blonde. The only thing I didn't like was that I looked exactly like my mother. The brown is the color of my father's hair, and the gold flecks in my eyes. My mother always called him her "Golden-Eyed Cowboy." He loved anything to do with the rodeo, the country, and of course horses. He always wanted to get a place in the country, but we could never afford it."

I looked over at Darry and his face was pale. He seemed really scared, or upset, or disbelieving, I couldn't tell. The other guys noticed too, because Ricky asked, "Hey Darry, what's the score?"

Darry shook his head and looked at Soda. He cocked his head in confusion. I glanced over at Two-Bit, and his face was pale too. He locked eyes with Darry and they seemed to have a silent argument. Darry seemed to win, because then Two-Bit nodded in resignation.

"Well, Ponyboy, why don't you read that letter, and let us know if there's anything worth sharing."

"Why does _he _get to read it?"

"Because it was given to him," Sodapop answered shortly.

Two-Bit tossed me the envelope, and I sliced open the top with my switchblade. When I glanced up, everyone's eyes were trained on me. Darry waved me on, "Hurry up, kid."

I shook out the envelope; a paper and a key fell out onto the table. Steve tried to snatch the paper, but Darry got it first, and handed it back to me. "Thanks," I said.

I opened up the paper.

_Hey guys,_

_Surprise! This is gonna be unexpected...but I got a newsflash for ya!_

_I'm not dead! I think we should celebrate. But we can't. And I haven't told you who I am yet either, so...that's complicating. Well, I really want to tell you, but I can't use my name or yours, I'm in more trouble than I've ever been in, but I gotta say, it's not something I wasn't expecting, it's been something after me for years. They got me, that's what happened, when I was shot, it wasn't with bullets. It was tranquilizer. Mild moose tranquilizer. I needed to be shot with mild moose tranquilizer. I was out for like a week, but, ya know, __moose tranquilizer__. I busted and killed a guy trying, but they were torturing me in there. The ringleader of those cuckoos was my uncle! Can you believe that? My uncle tried to kill me, sorta. Right now I'm in hiding in Oklahoma City, but don't come looking for me, I'll be heading for Ardmore in the morning, but don't go there either, I might not make it that far. I got a guy to tip them off that I headed for Dallas, Texas (see the funniness of that yet?). Ah, Keith, good memories! Not really. I'll admit...I miss you guys. There, I said it. That's enough gush, gotta go. _

_From,_

_Some Cowboy (hah) That's A City in Texas_

I felt the blood drain from my face. No. It couldn't be.

Before I could block it this time, memories flooded into my head. I remembered him so well, even after all the time I tried to forget. He had crumpled under a streetlight, wanting to die. He had always gotten what he wanted. Just not that time. There was an exception to everything.

"Ponyboy? Ponyboy? Are you okay? Pony!"

I didn't realize I had passed out, and Red was over me, looking scared out of her wits. On either side of her were Darry and Sodapop, and the gang was around them. I felt the letter in my hand, and how it was crumpled in my fist.

"Oh Pony, are you okay? Say something!"

Red was right over me. Her eyes are so cold...so beautiful and cold. Like ice. Ice filled with bits of gold. And leaves. But mostly ice. She smelled like lemon and orange—but mostly orange.

"I'm okay. I'm okay." I sat up, and almost fell over again, but Red grabbed my shoulders and steadied me. She was as cold as her eyes. She was ice-cold. Why was she so cold? Why did she have circles under her eyes? She looked tired. "You don't look okay, Red."

"_You_ don't look okay, Ponyboy," Darry said worriedly. He put a hand on my forehead. It felt nice. "And you don't feel okay either."

"Red is colder than you. I think Red is sick." Darry looked puzzled for a second, but then put a hand on her forehead too. He flinched, and so did she. "Glory, kid. You're colder than an ice-cube. All I got's a bunch o' sick kids."

"I'm not sick," I protested. "Here," I said gruffly, throwing the letter at him. "Read that. Just you and Two-Bit. Then you can decide if the others can read it. I'm gonna go lie down, my head hurts."

Soda helped me up, and as I staggered to my room, I heard Darry say to him, "Call the doctor. For both of them."

I collapsed onto my bed, and closed my eyes for a minute. When I opened them again, Red was sitting at the end of the bed with her arms around her ankles, looking worried and pensive. When I opened my eyes again, the doctor was there, and he was taking Red's temperature, then looking at the thermometer, shaking his head. He took my temperature too, and height and weight and a bunch of other stuff. He talked to Darry for a while, and I heard my name and Red's name a lot. The doctor woke me up again, and shined a light into my eyes, and rubbed my head funny, then nodded at Darry. I wanted to ask what they were talking about, but I was tired. Red was standing in the corner looking exhausted. I tuned in at the last minute to the conversation, with Darry saying, "Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies."

The doctor shrugged. "Alright. I can live with that," and he left.

Darry knelt next to me, looking worried. "How are ya, little buddy?"

"Tired. And I ache all over." I didn't mention that I could feel my heartbeat all over or that my stomach was ready to heave up my breakfast, or that I was light-headed. "What's wrong with me?"

"Doc says you got the flu, and you kindled your concussion back."

"What's wrong with Red? Why's she so cold?"

"The doctor thinks she has pneumonia, and hypothermia is just a symptom."

"But..."

"What is it, Ponyboy?"

"Doesn't pneumonia kill people?"

Darry laughed softly, but I could hear worry under it. "Only sometimes. And we caught it early enough that she should be okay once it blows over."

"Where is she?"

"We put her in Soda's old room, where he slept before you started havin' them night terrors."

"Oh. Okay."

He patted me gently, "You're both gonna be alright."

"Where's Sodapop?"

"Sittin' in the kitchen, frettin' like a mama goose. I should probably let him in now, he's mad that I wouldn't let him in while the doctor was here. He's worried sick." Darry went over to the door to get Soda, but he was standing right there, and he looked as worried as all get out, and I kind of felt bad.

He rushed over, and I could hear Two-Bit and the other guys talking in the kitchen. "Aww, Ponyboy...it's just one thing after another with you."

"It sure is," Two-Bit said, now in the doorway, lighting up a cigarette. I could use a smoke right now. "His guardian angel is either lazy, stupid, or on extended vacation. Or all three."

Darry pulled the cigarette out of Two-Bit's mouth and ground it into his jacket. "Don't smoke in the kid's room when he's sick."

Soda just sat there, stroking my hair and looking worried. At one point, I nodded off, and that was a _big _mistake.

You know how when you're sick, they say you have vivid dreams and hallucinate? Well, I had this one nightmare I always get, but I can never remember what it's about. I bolted upright, sweating like someone had dumped a bucket of water over me and hollering my head off. Soda ran in, and he shushed me and talked quietly to try to calm me down. Turns out it was only nine in the evening, and I had slept all day.

After he hushed me up, I couldn't stop shivering, so he just climbed into bed with me and hugged me. "Gosh, Pony, you sure are burning up."

But I fell asleep before I could answer.

Through the night, I must've woken up a hundred times. About the fifth, time Red was there, and I was in between her and Soda. I woke up again, and now she was in the middle, and her arms were wrapped around my neck. She looked really young when she slept—I guess everyone does. The next time I woke up, my arms were wrapped around her waist, and her arms were around my neck, and for some reason, I didn't feel the need to do anything about that setup. But the next time, she was hugging Sodapop and he had his arm over both our necks. Another time, they were both hugging each other, and I felt funny about that. I don't know how I felt, but it wasn't good. But the time after that, she was curled up in a ball against me and I had my arms around her, and I wasn't so sore at Soda anymore. It helped when I looked over at him and he was braiding her hair. I didn't know if he was awake or asleep, or if he even knew how to braid, but I didn't question it. Red was still cold, just not _as_ cold. She felt nice. She sighed happily, and I dozed off again.


	6. Chapter 6

Over the craziness of the last few days, the guys didn't really tease me too much. I couldn't really process what the heck had happened. It was like I'd known Red all my life, when I knew nothing about her, except something that would come up occasionally, like favorite foods—hers was cheesecake with meringue and strawberries—or other meaningless things.

Her past was mostly a mystery, and I never bothered to ask. I figured if she didn't feel like sharing it, I shouldn't try to force it out of her.

Occasionally, she would talk about her brother, Cowboy—the guys thought that was a riot, with me being Ponyboy, but I think ponies are better than cows anyway—and how she seemed to talk about him, one minute admiringly and the next scornfully, but it was evident she loved him a lot. Apparently, he'd run away when they were little because their dad had left them, and he got into fights with their mom. Red left two years ago, after her mom's frustration was getting to be too much.

When ever Red talks about that, her eyes get steely, and turn cold—like she's trying not to care. I don't think she knows that Soda and I notice, but we don't let on that we do. Who wants to feel vulnerable?

We talked a lot, just Red and Soda and I. Red and I were sick, and Soda had to stay to watch us. You can't really trust Two-Bit with two sick kids, especially when there's beer and chocolate cake in the fridge, and Mickey Mouse is on the television. Darry worked, Steve too, and Ricky was still the "new guy." So Soda stayed with us, and with not much better to do, he talked to us and we told stories and jokes.

Turns out, for a while Red was in New York City, looking for her brother, and this drunk stumbled out of a bar and proposed to her. Soda and I told her about the time Darry was trying to teach Steve a back-handspring, and the stupid moron kicked Soda in the face. Steve gave Soda a real good shiner on his cheekbone for a while. Red told us about trying to hitch a ride west, and a guy picked her up, a guy who had three little kids in the back. One of the little kids got into a fight with another, and someone back there said a "bad" word, and the dad got the kid out of the car and started switching him. Red had to get out and explain it was _her_ that said the bad word because she accidentally bit herself. Then the guy apologized to the kid and took them all out for ice cream. Soda told her about how we always teased Darry about being Superman, and called him Muscles or something—and Two-Bit making the mistake of saying he was "all brawn and no brain." She seemed to get a kick out of that.

We exchanged a lot of stuff like that, and got a few real good laughs. We usually hung out in my room, and all just sat in the bed together, eating and joking. It seemed like time flew, and despite being sick, I actually was really enjoying myself. Ricky didn't hang around much, but when he did, he liked to lean against the wall and talk with us. I don't actually know where he was staying, but it wasn't usually here.

Red hung around with us for a week, but finally, on Saturday morning, she said, "I need to get out."

Darry, Soda, and I looked up from our breakfast, startled. "What?" we chorused.

Red and I had been feeling better, and sometimes we went out and sat on the porch, but often not for long. It was getting really cold lately, and we weren't allowed to go anywhere because Darry was worried we might get sicker. Even this week, we were hitting record low temperatures, and they were only supposed to get lower. Then again, the weatherman is never right.

Red looked nervous. "Um...yeah. I need to get out of the house. I'm starting to forget the real reason I'm here."

"You mean...leave? Like, forever?" Soda asked, looking stricken. "But you can't—"

"No, no, I could come back, I just...I need to get the score on the city. I've never been here. I'll still be in town, just in a hotel or somewhere."

"Why are you leaving us?" Soda demanded. "Is it because of the food? Because if it is, I can cook better. I'll buy some cookbooks or something, or not let Ponyboy near the kitchen, or—"

Red laughed anxiously. "No, the food is great, Sodapop, when any of you cook it—especially Darry. Seriously, dude, you can cook," Red said, laughing again nervously. Soda looked huffy. "It's just that I'm imposing. I know I've put a dent in your grocery bill, and you had to pay the doctor for me, and I'm going to get out of your hair. I think I'll stay here awhile, and maybe get a job as a waitress or something, and pay you guys back for all you've helped me," she explained desperately, because Soda was banging his head on the table dramatically and I was sitting there stupidly, like it didn't make sense. Darry was leaning back in his seat, listening intently.

Red looked ready to smack someone, and Soda wasn't helping matters, banging his head on the table, and saying with each hit, "_You—have—to—be—kidd—ing—me_."

Darry looked somewhat indifferent. Why was he so unconcerned? I wish he'd at least make Sodapop stop bouncing his head on the table.

Finally, out of nowhere, Red brandished a thick roll of bills. There had to be at least a hundred bucks there...where did she get all of that money?

"Soda, stop. Hold still and shut your mouth for a minute. Gosh, you act like such a little kid!" she fumed.

Soda straightened immediately, and stared at Red incredulously. "Who's acting?"

"Here's money, this should cover it," she said, tossing the bills onto the table. I opened my mouth to ask where she got it, but she immediately said. "I've had this for a long while, I was saving for situations like this. As for where I got it—number one rule of mine: Ask no questions, I'll tell no lies. Capiche?"

Soda and I stared at Red, then at the money, then Red again.

She glared at us, as if daring us to argue. "Well, I'm going for a walk, I'll be back in an hour, then I'm leaving," and she left.

Soda slumped in his seat. "What just happened?"

Shrugging, I turned to Darry. Surprisingly, he looked as if he were expecting this. He picked up the money and shoved it in jacket pocket.

I looked at him disbelievingly. "You're not actually taking it?"

"I am."

"But—"

"There's something you guys don't seem to understand about her, but I get it and she knows. She's clever, cunning, and can be pretty sneaky. How do you think she's been able to get around so easily, let alone not starve to death?"

Soda and I sat there for a minute, and then it dawned on me. Soda said what I was thinking. "She nicks cash?"

Darry nodded. "Yeah. She nicks from pockets mostly, though."

Silently, Soda and I just sat there in a stunned stupor.

"Well...times are rough, especially for her. This is heaven to her—she doesn't normally have a roof for this long."

I looked at him, confused. "How do you know this stuff?"

Darry leaned back in his seat. "She's usually up when I get home at night. We talk a lot. Let me tell you, Soda," Darry said, as Soda's face hardened. "She's not a bad kid. Not any worse than anyone we know, and not nearly as bad as the Shepards. She's just had too many rough breaks, and had to start nickin' so she could support herself. She's not a bad kid—she has her heart in the right place. Honestly, I'm surprised she's even lasted this long on her own. Red's probably the smartest girl I know. She did what she had to, Sodapop."

"Well, then why did she say she wanted to get a job to pay us back?" I asked.

"Ponyboy, it's the principle of the thing.

Soda put his elbow on the table and rubbed his head. "I know. It's not that, just...I feel bad. No girl should have rough breaks, especially not her, especially not like that."

I sighed. "I've said it before and I'll say it again—things are rough all over."

"Well," Darry said, "One of you better go after her. I have no intention of letting her live in a hotel or somewhere. We might not have much to give, but a bunch of different people already practically live with us, so another ain't gonna hurt us much. Especially not one who deserves it. So who's goin'?"

Soda and I both jumped up.

"Well, even better, both of you go—split up, and you'll find her faster. And Ponyboy?"

"What?" I asked, slipping on my sneakers.

"Take it easy, you're still kinda sick. And don't forget to take a blade, I don't feel like going to the hospital because you didn't think."

"Yeah, yeah, I got mine in my pocket," I said exasperatedly. This time last year, he would've knocked me inside myself for having a switchblade—it would be a good excuse for some Soc to slice me to ribbons—but now I needed one, it was stupid to be without one. Nowadays, it seemed that the Socs were out for the kill.

Just then, I got an idea. I ran to my room, and pulled back the door. Grabbing it, I nearly pulled down the entire dartboard. As I left the house, I slipped the little silver switchblade into my jacket pocket. My brown leather jacket with the yellow sheep's-wool lining, and the great big burn on the back.

Red had left with nothing but a denim jacket, and I wondered how she was managing. I was freezing cold. Soda went towards the lot and field, and I went towards the alleys by the tracks. That was where the Shepard outfit liked to hang, and if she wasn't anywhere around there, maybe they had seen her pass by or something.

Then again, I thought, flipping up the collar on my jacket, they were probably at their houses, out of the cold, like any other sane person would do. If I hadn't been the nice guy I was, I'd be cussing Red out under my breath.

It was almost noon, but the sun was hiding behind the thick black cloud cover, so it could've passed for sometime much later. I could see frost forming on the windows. Record lows, huh? I could believe it. The sidewalk was icy, but not too bad that I slipped a whole ton.

I got ready to give up as I neared the park, but then I saw Red, standing on the edge of the fountain, staring down into it. Her back was to me, but it was unmistakably her—her odd hair hung in a loose braid down her back, and a bunch of loose locks spiraled around her face. There were all sorts of flowers tucked into the braid. How the heck had she managed that? We don't even have flowers around here this time of year.

I wanted to go over to her, but something kept me. Finally I told myself I was being stupid, and just went. My foot crunched onto the park's grass, and the strangest thing happened. A bloody switchblade flashed before my vision. A boy, against the fountain, breathing heavily, his dark eyes fearful, in denial, but then resigned. The water in the fountain infested with clouds of red, reaching into the clear water and assimilating it. Then suddenly, Red's eyes. But they weren't Reds. They didn't have all the flecks, or the thick lashes. They were cold and hard, unfeeling, all-knowing, and past caring...

"Ponyboy? Are you okay?" Red asked, her face etched with concern. Her eyes were just like the ones I just saw, but they weren't so cold, so hateful. Her eyes were bright and curious...but pained. Like they had seen too much, at such a young age.

"Yeah," I said, clearing my throat. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Oh, okay," Red said. She sounded like she wanted to cry. And she was shivering like a skinned polar bear.

"Hey now," I said, slipping off my jacket despite how cold I was. "Here. You know better than to run off with nothing warm," I said, draping the jacket around her shoulders. It was so big, it could've wrapped around her three times over.

"Yeah, sorry I forgot to bring _you_ along," she teased. I felt my face flush. "Hey now, I was just implying that...well, you know, you always have a fever...You know what I mean!" she finished, frustrated.

"Ah, cork it milady, you're only making it more awkward for him," another voice cut in.

I turned to see Two-Bit jogging towards us, a beer bottle in his hand.

"Aww, shut your mouth."

"Don't get mouthy with me, Pony," he said, jabbing a finger at me. "I prefer my mouth open anyway, I can talk pretty girls into going out with me," he added, winking at Red suggestively.

"Just keep to your blondes, bub," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Wow, someone's possessive of their lady."

"She's not my lady!" I shot back.

"Ouch," Red said, pretending to looking hurt.

I rolled my eyes. "Well let's get out of here, this place gives me the creeps."

Two-Bit raised an eyebrow at me, but didn't say anything.

"All right, where are we gonna go?" Red asked. "I don't want to go home, I need to get a look around town."

"Hmm...I don't know..."

"Wait, I got something," Two-Bit said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his billfold. "Take her so she can get some clothes. Girls need clothes, and all she has it what she's got on."

Red began to protest, but Two-Bit pressed a twenty against her mouth. "No buts. I won this in a poker game, a poker game that I so skillfully cheated in, so I might as well let someone else have use of the money."

"Alright, but only if you tag along," I said. I didn't want to be alone with Red, after this week's incidents.

"I'll only hitch until we get to the lot. Then I'm gonna hang out there, see if I can hunt up some poker with Steve or one of your brothers."

I just shook my head. "Darry's leaving for work soon. And Soda cheats."

Two-Bit just grinned good-naturedly. "Good, between that and giving away the money, I'll be scotch-free."

We walked for a while, Two-Bit and I goofing around a little to make Red laugh. She laughs real easily. She and Two-Bit have the same undefinable, backwards sense of humor, but she seems to find mostly anything funny. It's weird how someone like her, with so much to hurt about, just lives and loves life anyway—at least that's how she makes it seem.

At one point, a tuff green Ford Galaxy passed us and slowed down, but Two-Bit and I slouched and looked mean, so it didn't stop. Red just looked at us funny-like.

"What?" I asked, straightening up.

"Well," she murmured. "It's just weird. You guys are all happy-go-lucky one second, and then..."

"Then we look like we're gonna mug you?" Two-Bit tried jokingly.

"Yeah," Red said. "You look like...hoods. I've known you to actually be pretty easygoing guys, but then you look as bad as the guys on New York's West Side. It's freaky."

"That's the point, babe," Two-Bit said, throwing an arm around her. She looked at it in mock disgust, turning to me and sticking her tongue out, like _Eww, now I have herpes_. Two-Bit didn't seem to notice, and I couldn't help grinning. Red grinned back.

"You see, looking tough comes in handy. Back there, it might've kept us from getting jumped. Ya gotta scare 'em off."

"I see that now," Red said thoughtfully to the sky.

"Well, there's the lot, and Soda and Stevie, so I'm gonna split. See ya," Two-Bit said, jogging over to them. Soda was supposed to be looking for Red. Well, he's got the attention span of a monkey, so what did I expect?

"Well, the shop's only another two blocks," I said.

"Woo."

We just kept on in thick silence. Finally Red spoke, "Ponyboy. Who named you that?"

"My father. He named Sodapop too."

"What about Darry?"

"I think my mum named him after Dad. Well, he was named after Dad, but mum did the naming."

"Your dad...he sounds like an original guy," Red replied, smiling.

"He was an original guy."

"If you don't mind me asking...what happened to him? And your mum?"

"Auto accident," I said shortly.

"Oh. I'd say I'm sorry, but I know that does nothing." Red was smart. She knew the score.

"You dig okay, you know that?" I asked after a while.

"So do you, Pony," she said, shifting her eyes to me, smiling. "I don't know very many people, but for what it's worth, you're one of my favorites."

I felt my face burning. "Thanks."

As we neared the shop, I handed her the cash. "I'll wait out here, I'm not much for shopping anyway."

Red laughed. "Me either. But I guess I do need some different clothes, these are worn to the limit. I'm worried about shoes really though. Mine have holes in the soles."

"Okay, I'll just be out here. Take your time."

"Bets on ten minutes?"

"Sure," I said, grinning. I knew from Soda that a girl could never shop in ten minutes.

Red went in, and I found a tin-can, so I started kicking it around. After five minutes, though, I got a little antsy. I felt like something was up. I kicked the can onto the street, and went to retrieve it, but then that green Galaxy pulled up, crushing it beneath the tire. Heavy car.

The passenger door popped open, and out stepped a handsomely dressed guy, a little older than me. I recognized him. He was the guy that jumped Red.

He slammed the car door shut, and I happily noticed that his face was painted with bruises still.

"Well what do ya know, we found us some trash," he said to the guy getting out of the driver's side. This guy was tall and kind of chubby, but he was still dressed to a tee.

"You must be pretty hungry to come looking for it," I said, tensing and flicking out my switchblade. "Lord knows you wouldn't be able to get better."

"Watch it, kid, I got another two guys in the backseat," the chubby one said.

"Well then pity the backseat," I replied coolly, checking my reflection in the blade to show I didn't care whether they pounced me or not. My gray-green eyes looked stormy. I looked tough.

The passenger smiled maniacally. "You should. One of those guys is a buddy of yours."

I didn't look up from the knife, but I saw my eyes get large. I tried to get my composure back.

He seemed to notice my unease, because he smiled wider. He tapped on the window. "Hey Dan, bring him out."

I looked up from the knife, watching the car intently. I barely kept a pretense as I gripped the switchblade so tightly that my knuckles hurt, but I didn't care. A guy got out of the back on the other side, and came over to this side and popped the door open. It was in the way, so I couldn't see who was in there, but he grabbed them around the ankles and pulled. I heard a sickening crack as their head hit the pavement, but Dan didn't seem to care. He pulled up onto the sidewalk...Ricky.

Ricky looked like death. He was covered in cuts and bruises—the guy who had punched him was either wearing a lot of heavy rings, or my guess—brass knuckles. Ricky was drenched with blood. There was no way he was alive, but the labored rise and fall of his chest argued that.

Right then, as if he had read my thoughts, Dan pulled a pair of brass knuckles out of his pocket, grinning triumphantly. He shoved them into his back pocket.

I was sick, and enraged. I didn't know Ricky well, but I knew he was a good guy, and didn't deserve anything bad, especially not this. I felt like I wanted to throw up.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had my blade pressed against Dan's neck, and blood beaded along it as he began to cough. "What are you gonna do, grease?" he gagged. "Kill me?"

"No," I said. "But I'm gonna make you wish you were dead."

I felt cold, sharp metal against the side of my face. Behind me, the fat one growled, "And your friends are gonna wish you was alive."

The one from the passenger seat pushed me away from Dan, and slugged me, hard, while the one behind me held me there. I gasped, swearing between hits, and fought to get away.

What happened next seemed to move in slow-motion. Dan's fist surged towards me again, and I braced myself, but then he fell sideways, a different fist connected to his face. Time caught up, and Red stumbled forward with the force of the punch.

She gazed at her hand in awe. "I've got to get me some of these."

"Here," she said, tossing me the other brass knuckles. Her own fingers gleamed bronze.

I did what she implied, sliding them on. They were kind of heavy, but not any more than I expected. Dan was on the ground, cursing and holding his face.

The chubby guy grabbed me, and Red punched him with her unclad fist, her eyes fiery.

I looked at her pleadingly. _I can't use these!_

She seemed to plead back for a moment, but then the other guy came up behind her, and I punched him, hard. His face began to bleed, and he struck back, but I caught his fist, and hit with my opposite one. Red topped it off with a kick to his groin. He fell to his knees, then toppled back.

Dan stumbled towards us. "I'm going to kill you," he said, still holding his face, his eyes burning with hatred. I don't know why, but I just stood there and let him come at me. I didn't want to hurt him, even after the things he'd done to us. It wasn't right. I hate fighting. I hate fighting.

He slugged me, then kneed me in the stomach. Gasping, I doubled over, his elbow came down on my neck, and then he gave me an uppercut. I fell backwards, and he was standing over me, his eyes gleaming victoriously.

At that moment, I was completely at his mercy. He could've killed me right there. I was scared stiff. I knew he was too hateful right then to just leave me there to bleed to death—and I knew I would. I could taste the blood through my teeth, and the rusty metallic taste made me sick.

_He did this to me_, I thought absently. _I'm going to die here._

_No. No, you're not. Do something. Don't just lie there. Finish this._

So I did something. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down, and whispered into his ear, "You're going to regret ever laying eyes on her," and I punched him, in the nose, and was satisfied to hear the crack as my fist made contact.

I stood up slowly, and stars danced in my vision. My head ached and I tasted blood, and I felt my face cut up. Red was leaning against the wall of the building, her face pale and a bruise darkening the skin around her collarbone. She wasn't cut up too badly.

"Are you okay?" I asked, stumbling over to her.

"I'm fine," she said. "They aren't, though."

I followed her gesture, and saw all three of the guys out cold on the ground. Ricky was sprawled on the sidewalk, and he wasn't looking any better.

"Well, ain't this swell?" I asked bitterly. "Three half-dead Socs, a mostly dead buddy, and a Galaxy."

"Yes," Red said, her stormy eyes suddenly gleaming. "Three half-dead _Socs _and a Galaxy." Red looked at me, a new interest in her eyes. "It would be awfully hard to carry Ricky home, about three blocks away, and it would be so much easier to do it...in our new Ford."

I looked at her, stunned. "You're not suggesting..."

"No, I'm not suggestin', I'm doin'," Red said, going over to the chubby driver and emptying his pockets. "Ah," she added delightedly, holding up a keyring. "Here we go."

Red shoved the key into her pocket, and went over to Ricky, grabbing him under the armpits. "Get his legs and help me put him back in." With some trouble, we eased him back into the car. The Socs didn't stir. My eyes fell upon Dan and I felt bad.

Red saw me staring at him, and said, "Don't feel bad. They had it coming. And I settled my score with old Mikey there," she pointed to the one who had jumped her. "Now _he_ can stay inside for a week." I remained silent.

I had to say though, I definitely didn't feel bad about taking their car. They'd just buy a new one. Everything was replaceable to a Soc. They wouldn't come looking for it, not after the belting we gave them, and I doubt they'd come back to the East Side at all, anytime soon.

Red retrieved her shopping bags, only two, and a shoebox, and stowed them in the trunk. She wrinkled her nose as she slammed it shut.

"What?" I asked. I was still a little light.

"There's about six cases of booze back there. Hope we don't get pulled over by the cops or nothin'. You wanna drive?"

I shook my head. "I'll pass." I was having trouble focusing my vision, and my head hurt like the dickens.

"Alright, hope you don't mind high speeds then," Red replied, sliding into the driver's seat. I opened the door, and sat in the passenger seat, slumping. I hurt and smarted everywhere.

"Get ready," she said, starting up the car. Man, was this ever a tuff car. Red's foot pressed into the gas, and we shot off.


	7. Chapter 7

Let me just say, when Red said high speeds, she wasn't exaggerating. It reminded me of a time I was riding with someone down a red dirt road—but I don't remember who—they just seemed to have no regard for speed limits, same as Red. We were home in a couple minutes, the engine roaring as we pulled into the driveway. Must have made quite a ruckus too, because the curtains were pulled up and I saw the guys peering through the window.

Red pulled the keys out of the ignition and tossed them to me. "If they don't come looking for the car, you have it. You deserve a car like this, you look good in it. Not that you don't look good all the time," she did what I perceived to be a very un-Red-ish thing, then—she giggled. I laughed nervously too, not sure how to respond. Maybe that giggle was sarcastic. Maybe she was giggling at something else. Maybe it was because she knew it would make my head get mixed up, and she wanted to antagonize me.

There goes my over-active imagination again.

They must have decided that some Socs pulled into their driveway, because Soda came out the door holding the ax we used to chop wood. The other guys streamed and fanned out behind him, with switchblades, and Steve even had a pipe.

Red honked at them, waving and flashing a good-natured grin. She rolled down the window. "Just us! Don't untidy this car!"

Soda lowered the ax, and just stared at us in disbelief. Red popped the door open, I got out too, gripping the door tightly. Soda looked as if someone had told him that Two-Bit had gotten A's in school.

"What...?" he asked, his mouth open while he stood there limply.

"We got jumped," I said helpfully, entering the house. My nose began to gush blood, and I hastily pinched it.

"We see that," Two-Bit chided, raising an eyebrow.

He came in to help Red and I, while Steve practically laid on the car, his eyes glazed over.

"So, who's car is it?" Steve asked in an awed voice.

"Now?" Red asked absently, leaning on the counter, pressing a wet washcloth to her face. "Ponyboy's. I think he looks good in it."

"You think he looks good in anything," Two-Bit muttered, dabbing at a a cut on my temple.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly, grinning at me. I started to roll my eyes, but it didn't help my unsteadiness.

"Leave us be, Two-Bit. I've had enough beating this week for half a lifetime."

"Only half? That's hastily said, Pony, you're gunnin' to get another three halves tacked on."

"Let up, will you?" I groaned.

Two-Bit chuckled, but said nothing as he put a Band-Aid on my face.

Suddenly I remembered our cargo. "Ricky..."

Red glanced up in realization. "Oh yeah, I forgot! Idiot!" she muttered to herself. I didn't know if she was talking about me or Ricky or herself.

I stood up to go get him, but as the living room began to whirl around me, Two-Bit clamped a hand over my shoulder, easing me back down onto the couch. "Hey, steady kid, you ain't goin' anywhere."

"But—"

"I'll go help her with the kid. Just...don't move." I didn't feel like protesting, because my head hurt and I felt a little motion-sick, with the room dancing around me, so I just stayed there.

Two-Bit pushed open the screen door, and his usually comical face looked uneasy. "This kid got beat bad. Judist priest. Almost worse than..." he cut short, but my mind filled in the blank—_Johnny._ It seemed like my brain was going to sear.

_Stop_, I commanded myself. _Just stop it. There...there is no Johnny. You never knew a Johnny. You're being stupid. There is a Sodapop, there is a Darry, there is a Steve, there is a Two-Bit, there is a Dal—stop it! There is no Dallas Winston._

_This ends, now. _And I wiped my mind, like the doctor told me to do when I was stressed, a couple months ago. That was when I had a bad concussion. I still haven't been right since then. I run into things a lot, and forget things sometimes. But it's not so bad lately.

Red followed Two-Bit in, with her two shopping bags and the shoebox. She dropped them unceremoniously on the floor, and helped Two-Bit take Ricky into Soda's old room. Red would have to have the couch tonight, and Soda would sleep with me. Unless he slept with Darry, and Red could share with me...

I was ready to feel my face get hot at that, but it seemed like I didn't have the energy to blush.

After that, I was kinda pooped, so I sprawled out on the couch, and Red sat next to me. The air between us seemed tense.

Two-Bit got some chocolate cake and a bottle of liquor, and turned on the TV. There wasn't much good on. Reruns of _The Honeymooners_, _The Rifleman_, _Mickey Mouse, _and _I Love Lucy._

Soda came in and sat down on the other side of Red, and he and Two-Bit bickered between _The Rifleman _and_ Mickey Mouse_. Sodapop was sure grumpy, and didn't let up. Eventually, after he smacked Two-Bit upside the head, we ended up watching _The Rifleman_.

I liked that show. I liked seeing Lucas and Mark McCain live in the country, and go to town, associate with people. There, there seemed to just be people.

Wait, no there didn't. Everyone was against everyone else. Everyone was a Soc, and a greaser. They all seemed to have two sides, and they'd take the side that seemed to get the most cash. Except for Mark and Lucas—the best word for them was glue. They stuck to their beliefs, stuck together, and stuck up for each other.

The way my dad and I had been, sticking up for each other—except I had to share him with three other people. But I hadn't minded that. He was there for me when I needed him...except when I needed him most—to mourn his and Mom's deaths. It wasn't fair. But like Red said, _If it's escaped your notice, life isn't fair. _That hurt—fairness was a sphere out of my control—that's why my parents died, because there's too much out of my control.

My father, strong but gentle, firm, true, smiling and laughing. He was an old hickory tree, tall, strong and immobile. He should have been untouchable, rooted for forever.

My mother, golden and beautiful, polished and perfect, should have lasted forever. But now I knew better.

Nothing gold could stay.

_Stay gold, Ponyboy._

No. Nothing gold can stay.

_Stay gold, Ponyboy._

But then I have to go. My mother was gold—and she died. I don't want to die.

_Stay gold—_

I woke abruptly, as a snicker ripped through the air. My arm tensed, and I felt something soft. My eyes flew open, and I immediately stiffened, but my sore body protested.

Steve towered over me, menacing, and he looked like a prison guard. He was silent for a moment, his face grave, and then I guess his self-control failed him, because he busted out laughing. I was confused for a moment, before I saw a permanent marker in his hand.

"Steve..." I muttered warningly, my hand flying to my face, even though the damage was already done. "You didn't!" I bolted upright, and Red, who was draped over my lap, her head on the couch arm, tumbled to the floor, gasping. I was already halfway to the bathroom though. I looked in the mirror at myself, and I didn't know if I was ready to laugh or kill. A great big handlebar mustache decorated my upper lip, curling out over my cheeks. "_Steve!_"

I heard his laughter ring from the living room, and I stomped back out. "You stupid—" I stopped, remembering there was a girl in our midst. But boy, was I mad. I had a reputation for being quite, even around the gang, but now I was ready to use a lot of specific words at once. Soda plodded in, his face somber, and that's what made me do a second take.

"Can't you guys give it a rest?" he asked tiredly.

"What's wrong, Sodapop?" I asked in reply. Something was on his mind, and he wasn't bothering to try and hide it.

"When the guys leave and Darry gets home, I'll tell you. But go get some ice from the fridge, you look like you're hurtin'."

I stood there for a moment, confused, then did as he said.

I ventured back to the couch, where Red was curled up in a nest of blankets, her eyes closed. Sitting down on the couch, I sighed as I pressed the ice to my face, right under my left cheekbone. That's where it hurt the most.

Red's one eye opened a crack, and she glared at me in contempt through her lashes, but said nothing. The way she laid there in the blankets made me think of a huffy cat.

"Sorry I rolled you onto the floor."

She shook her head, smiling softly. "I know you didn't mean to, Pony," she replied sleepily. "What's wrong with Soda? I can feel the tips of his edginess all the way over here."

"I don't know."

"Oh. Want me to talk to him?"

"No!" I snapped. Her eyes widened, and she flinched. "I meant no," I apologized softly. "Sorry. It's just that he's not usually like this, and it worries me."

Red relaxed. "I get what you mean, sort of. I don't really spend enough time around one person to tell," she laughed bitterly to herself. "Can you be my escort tomorrow? I have to find new living quarters, and a job. And I need to start looking for my brother again, now that I'm better."

"Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you—Darry insists you stay. Really."

She bit her lip. "I really don't know, Ponyboy..."

"We have chocolate cake." As if on cue, Two-Bit came out of the kitchen with his all-time favorite meal: chocolate cake, a cigarette, and a bottle of beer. He plopped down on the floor in front of the television.

"Alright, I'll stay. But I still need to go looking for a job. And my brother."

I debated telling her that I knew about her nicking cash, then just went for it. No harm could be done if I worded it right, and I was pretty good with words. "I don't think you need to go out and get a job. It seems you have a bit of cash already."

Her face was guarded, careful, as if she was debating what to say, and for a minute I thought I'd earned myself a good backhand to the face. But then she said, "I suppose you know about my little thieving habit? Yeah, well, I didn't really have much choice. And I only stole money from people who looked like they didn't need it. Like those Socs we bashed earlier."

I held up a hand. "You don't need to justify yourself to me. I've nicked a few things in my day. And Two-Bit here," Two-Bit turned and waved, chocolate on his face. "Pockets anything that isn't nailed down. I'm pretty sure the cigarette in his hand is a child of thievery. Savvy? "

Red looked pensive. "Interesting terminology. You must read a lot, huh?"

"Uh...yeah, actually, I do. How could you tell?"

"Your mustache, obviously."

I remembered Steve's little piece of artwork, and felt my face, as if I could feel the marker there. If he wasn't Soda's buddy, I'd give him a good working over.

Red and I exchanged glances, and she laughed lightly. Not that I blamed her. We sure lived with a funny bunch.

Darry came home soon after that, and Soda pulled him to one side, muttering quickly and glancing around with shifty eyes. Darry's face went pale and grave.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Red raised her head and regarded us quizzically.

Darry just shook his head at her, beckoning me over. "Soda found something in the lot today."

"So? What did he find?"

"This," Darry said, extending his arm, gripping it in his hand. My blood seemed to run cold.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, I had hit the ground running before I even had the chance to wake up. It was only about six in the morning, and the guys were running around our house half-dressed, clutching pieces of toast and bacon and hollering at each other. Ricky was sitting upright when Sodapop checked on him, but he seemed to be in a daze, asking what was going on every few seconds, and asking again once he was answered.

I had sprung up from bed, only to realize that I had almost rolled Red right out. She's good at developing bad habits, I'd say.

Hair tousled, Red sat upright in confusion. "Woss goin' on?" she asked sleepily.

"We gotta go. Stay here and wait, we'll be back soon."

"Wait, no, I want to go!" she protested, staggering upright quickly. "Don't leave me here."

"What? My house ranks with a haunted mansion or something?"

"No, haunted mansions do catering. I want to go. Where are you going?"

"If you don't know where we're going, why would you ask to come?" I replied drily, slipping on a shirt. I would've like Red to come, but this wasn't something we could invite her along to. "We might be heading to jail," I added, slipping on a sweatshirt.

"Well if you ain't gonna let me come, you'll be heading to a hospital, and real fast too, bub," Red retorted, her hands shaking. "I know something's up, you think I couldn't see the three of you muttering to each other like you were planning a murder last night?" Her face was getting red, and the long pale scar along it was sticking out all the more.

"That's because it was something for gang ears only."

"I'm not one of you, I get that, but I'm not going to be in the dark about something that causes this much havoc. There are half-naked guys all over the place for Christ's sake!"

"No there ain't, most of them have pants on!" I shot back.

"Yeah, half-naked, none of them have shirts!" she challenged.

"Just stop, okay?"

"Ooh! Couple fight!" Two-Bit announced from hallway.

"Shut up, Two-Bit!" we spit together. He only chuckled and shrugged his coat on.

"Well here's something to chew on," Red said impatiently. "What if something happens, like those Socs coming back for their car, and they decide to beat up anyone in the house, especially me? Huh? What about self-defense?"

"Then here!" I snapped, tossing the little silver switchblade onto the bed. "We're leaving, you're staying, no questions asked. Capiche?" But I left, slamming the bedroom door behind me before she could argue.

"Here kid," Soda said, giving me a tomato and bacon with mayo sandwich as I passed the kitchen.

"Darry making breakfast?" I asked, holding the sandwich between my teeth as I tied my shoes.

"Yeah," Soda replied absently, buttoning up his shirt. Steve was sitting on the couch, his eyes closed and his breathing deep. I don't know how he managed to nap through this.

Two-Bit was sitting at the kitchen table, fidgeting nervously. Two-Bit's never nervous, but this is enough to make anyone nervous, the entire fiasco.

Darry came out of the kitchen, sitting down and slipping on his work boots. He seemed more apprehensive than nervous.

So that's how it was. Two-Bit was anxious, Sodapop was curious, Steve probably thought it was bait for a jumping, Darry was suspicious, and I...I don't know what I was. I was fearful, I guess, but I think I also subconsciously knew what was happening too, which wasn't good—haven't you ever heard the saying, _ignorance is bliss_?

We each made our way out the door. I hadn't said goodbye to Red, she was still in my room, and she hadn't shown. I guess I was a little rough on her—but this wasn't a time for her to explore the city. This was more like heading to a rumble with chains, blades and pool sticks. Except we didn't know what we were up against, and not even sure if there was going to be a fight. I just wished Soda hadn't gone to the lot in the first place, and found that thing.

We decided to walk, even though Steve protested to take the car. Darry wasn't sure if those Socs were looking for it though, and didn't want to get caught in it if they were.

I felt bad for Darry. If it weren't for Soda and I, he really would be a Soc. Now he had to work like an old man just to keep the house together, and he's missed out on college entirely, so his future has nothing but menial jobs. Not much of a future. Maybe that's why his eyes seemed so cold sometimes. He was bitter for missing out.

That's why Darry babied me and kept me on my toes. He wanted me to get the shot at college that he missed out on, so he was real strict about schoolwork and study habits. It was tiring, but I sorta understood where he was coming from. I just wish he'd cut me a little more slack.

We walked on in solemn silence. Usually when we were all together, there was lots of noise and laughter and general messing around—especially when we were on our way to a rumble, we were always pumped. But we didn't know if this was a rumble. It was just a note in a hurried, careless scrawl, _Meet me by the alleys at the tracks at a quarter to seven tomorrow morning. Bring the entire gang._

So we decided to go. There was little reason not to—if it was someone wanting a beating, we'd give it to them. If it was the Shepards in a jam, we'd help them out. We figured it was something to do with the Shepard outfit, seeing that those alleys are their hangout—but usually, Tim Shepard would sign something like that. He liked to look big and in charge, like he knew what he was doing, and his gang was more of one—they were disciplined, played roles. Our gang was mostly a group of friends that stuck together, and we had as much discipline as broncos.

We were nearing the tracks, and Darry slowed down, pivoting to us. "Okay, listen up. None of us know what to expect, the Shepards just probably need something, so we'll provide and bust. If it's a trick for a rumble, Sodapop, you and Ponyboy know the deal. Beat it when the fuzz show. Stick in at least groups of two. Soda, you stick with Pony, I can trust him with you."

"I ain't five, Darry," I sighed.

"Well for the time bein', you're gonna be. Everyone understand what to do?"

Steve and Two-Bit nodded, and Soda grinned half-heartedly. "Yessir, Superman, lead the way."

Darry cracked a smile, and we crossed into Shepard territory.


	9. Chapter 9

As we padded around the streets, we saw nothing but empty alleys and side roads. This part of town was uncannily quiet, like it knew something was amiss. You could have dropped a book and it would never have reached the ground, the air was that thick with tension. It seemed like an industrial ghost town. We wandered the area for a while, glancing down alleys and exchanging confused looks and shrugs.

"What're you doin' in a bad neighborhood like this, grease?" a husky voice asked, as I felt something sharp press against the small of my back.

Darry pivoted on the spot, his face alarmed then relieved. "Oh, hey Tim."

Tim Shepard grinned drily. "Hey Darry pal. How's it going?"

"That's what I was gonna ask you."

Shepard shrugged. "Well I'm just dandy, thanks. Why're you prowling' in my part of town, huh?"

"So it wasn't you?"

"What wasn't me? Don't say that. It probably was."

"This," Darry said, tossing him the bottle with the letter in it.

Tim caught it easily in his hand. "And what is this?" he said, fishing out the note.

"Thought you could tell me. It said to meet us here, so I did, in case you had a problem."

"The greasiest good Samaritan out there."

"Funny. So you or your boys didn't send that?"

Tim read it over, and shook his head. "Can't say we did. Where'd you get it?"

"Our lot. It was left there and had a red handkerchief tied around it, Sodapop found it."

Tim wrinkled his nose in distaste. He had never liked our lot—not enough territory. Remember, I told you Tim likes having his power? This is what I mean, at least one aspect of it. Besides, even friendly gangs didn't cut into each other's territory without a real good reason.

"No names, huh?"

"Not a single one."

"It sounds like someone was planning' to jump y'all."

Darry sighed. "That's what we were thinking. But we came in case it was actually you needin' help, or somethin' of the like."

Tim shook his head. "We're fine. And we ain't seen no one in our territory. But there was somethin' odd this mornin'."

"What woss that?" Steve asked, leaning his elbow on Soda's shoulder.

"Well, there was some blood 'bout two nights ago near the outskirts of town, but in our turf. Not much, but there was a trail of the stuff for a little while. Looked fresh. There wasn't enough to tell where it'd come from."

The guys looked pensive. I wondered about it myself. Maybe there was a connection. I don't know, but I was curious about it.

"Well...I guess we'll go now," Darry said. "If you see hide or hair of something funny, send someone over to let us know, savvy?"

"I dig. See ya soon, pal, I'm gonna go get my guys and hunt some action. Oh, and little Curtis, you should see Curly sometime, he's been itchin' to hang with you. You guys don't dare pull a Chicken on me again though."

I nodded. Curly dug okay, even if he was kinda slow in the head. "Will do."

We were pretty far back in Shepard turf, so Sodapop suggested we look down the alleys on our way out, it seemed practical enough. And Soda thinks he's dumb. He might not be a good speller or mathematician, but he knew the score.

So as we passed, we once again poked into the surrounding streets and alleys, but saw nothing. We were tired, hungry, and kinda sleepy, and ready to get out of there.

Just as we passed the last alley, I noticed a figure laying like a bump on a log against a dumpster. They had on dark clothes, and were tall and lanky. "Darry..." I said, holding up my hand. "Wait a sec, will ya?"

I approached the figure slowly and carefully, noticing blood shining burgundy on the surrounding concrete. The figure had their hood pulled up, and their head was slumped. What if they were unconscious?

I stood there for a moment, then cautiously nudged them with my toe. Whoever it was stirred. Their head lifted slightly, but not enough for their face to be visible, and they reached out to touch my leg. Finally, his head raised, and I everything stopped as we made eye-contact. My breathing, my heart, time, the earth, the city noises, everything stopped.

I screamed bloody murder.

Sodapop took me home after that. My mind seemed to be blank the entire time. The other guys seemed upset. I don't know why. It was just some cripple in the street.

When I got home, Soda went into the backyard with the ax, and Red was in the kitchen. She didn't look like herself. She was wearing a blouse and a circle skirt, and penny loafers. It looked odd on her. Her hair was tied up in pin curls. She looked like a housewife. I didn't like it.

"Hello," she greeted me curtly, stirring something in a pot on the stove.

"Why do you look like a girl?" I asked.

"Gee, thanks."

"No—why are you wearing a dress?" I asked, throwing myself down on the couch. I was pretty light-headed, and didn't feel like standing.

"Because apparently I've been reduced to a woman that belongs in the house, making sandwiches for men."

"Nah. We don't give women switchblades. Where did you even get that dress?"

"I went shopping the other day, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah," I said, running a hand through my hair. I felt better now. That guy had really creeper me out though. Not as much as he had freaked out the other guys though. They looked like they were gonna cry. I don't know why though. It was just a crippled hobo.

"Speaking of the other day, why did you do that with the car?" I asked her.

She glared at me from the corner of her eye. Well, better apologize. "Sorry I wouldn't let you come with us today." Ugh, women.

"And?"

"And what?" I asked.

"I don't know," Red shrugged, slipping the plain felt floor-length dress over her head. I was about to shield my eyes, but it turns out she was wearing regular clothes underneath. Red donned a sleeveless plain white t-shirt with the sleeves cut off,. Her shirt was tucked into a pair of faded blue jeans, that were held up by her leather belt with the W buckle. What probably stood out most from her ensemble was her jacket and her sneakers. Her jacket was a tight-fitting black leather aviator's jacket, and it had so many pockets and buckles and straps that I got confused just looking at it. Her shoes, however were really simple—a pair of low red converses.

"Your style never changes, huh?" I asked, yawning.

She rolled her eyes. "Sh, no, why should it?"

"No reason."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

I sat there for a while, and my eyelids felt heavy. I closed them and sighed, feeling a cold hand press against my forehead. I opened my eyes and looked around, to find Red sitting next to me, her lips pursed as she shook her head.

"Are you always running a fever?" she asked me.

"No, really just since you arrived."

"Wow, that sure makes me feel swell," she replied sarcastically. I grinned half-heartedly, looking at Red. She stared into my eyes with puzzled interest.

"You have the coolest eyes, you know that? Like...I don't really even know...Maybe like leaves on a cloudy sky. They're all green and silver. It's pretty."

"Gee, thanks. Now I'm a pansy with pretty eyes."

Red shook her head seriously. "No, really. How about manly, pretty eyes?"

I sighed. "Well your eyes aren't run of the mill either. I ain't seen eyes like yours in a while."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I shrugged tiredly. "They look like gold got frozen into some ice, I guess. Can't really describe it...well, they're interestin' to look at."

Red looked at me, puzzled. Then she cleared her throat. "Well, your girl must love your eyes."

"I don't have one. Girls don't really seem to notice me."

Red burst out in heaving laughing. "_You have to be joking!_"

I stared at her in confusion. "Why would I be joking?"

She caught her breath, and looked at me like she was sizing me up. "Really? Well let me tell you something Ponyboy, girls notice you. They definitely notice you."

I frowned, still confused. "What makes you say that?"

Red just looked at me like I was stupid. "Well, you and your brothers are good-looking. Girls notice you guys."

I laughed. "They notice Sodapop, definitely—he looks like a movie star, who wouldn't notice him—and they notice Darry, he looks tuff, cool, smart. But I'm not a looker like either of them."

Red rolled her eyes. "You and Soda look a lot alike y'know. Haven't you noticed that when girls pass you on the street, they stare?"

"No, I haven't noticed it because it hasn't happened."

"You're so blind."

"Can you just...just—"

"Stop? Okay. Fine. Whatever floats your boat," Red said, getting up and heading into the hall.

Girls are too confusing.


	10. Chapter 10

Red's POV

I can't believe Ponyboy. I just can't believe him. I was thinking about him as I went down the narrow hallway. Boys are too confusing.

As I passed the bathroom, I noticed the door was cracked, and someone inside was...sobbing. I hesitated for a minute, then knocked on it lightly.

"Is that you, Pony?" Soda's voice broke as he said it.

"Uh, no, it's...me, Red," I replied stupidly. I pushed the door open a little to find Soda leaning against the wall of the bathroom. He wiped his shining eyes quickly.

"Are...are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, leaning back and sniffing.

"Need to talk?" I sat next to him against the wall.

"Nah, just..." he stopped.

"You can tell me, I'm not gonna blab."

His arm pressed against mine and I realized how pleasantly warm his skin was. Not feverish, like Ponyboy's, but warm and nice.

Soda pressed his hand against my arm. "Gosh, you're colder than the dickens!"

"I'm fine," I said quickly. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I'll tell you what's wrong," he replied quickly, lifting me. "I've felt ice cubes warmer than you."

"Hey!" I complained as he plopped me into his lap. "What're you doin'?"

"Trying to warm you up," he replied, grinning slyly and wrapping his arms around me. He smelled like lavender. It did feel nice...I realized how sleepy I was.

"Uh, Soda, ain't I makin' you cold?"

"Nope," he said, sighing and resting his chin on my shoulder. "I'm comfy as a cockapoo."

I wriggled a little, but Sodapop just grinned and held me there. What was he playing at? I squirmed a little more, but finally just gave up. I realized I didn't want to move.

"Soda?"

"Hmm?"

"What're you doing?"

"Bein' a good Samaritan."

"Holding girls captive in your lap counts as a good deed?"

"It does when they like it."

"Sodapop..."

"Cut it out, I don't feel like movin' anyway."

I said nothing after that, but the steady rise and fall of his chest made me sleepy. Before I knew it, I had drifted off. For once, I had a real, honest-to-God dream.

I was at an intersection. The street sign read Pickett and Sutton. Across the street, a light-haired guy in a leather jacket was smoking, and he checked his watch before glancing around. He seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place him. His attention suddenly focused on me, and I froze. Then as two boys passed me, I realized his attention wasn't focused on me at all, but them. One had dark hair and eyes, and scars on his face. He looked skittish, like a foal in an auction ring. The other one...was Ponyboy!

I looked closer, and Ponyboy seemed somehow younger looking, his face more carefree, and...innocent. But that seemed the only difference. Pony and the darker boy approached the tough-looking one, and they seemed to know each other well. They talked for a few minutes, then just...left. I began to follow them, but then a voice caught me.

"What are you two _doing_?"

My eyelids fluttered open and I felt Soda jump.

"What?" he asked groggily, his arms still wrapped around my waist.

I looked into the doorway to see a bewildered Ricky. His eyes were wide, but they had deep circles under them. His face was still bruised, but the bruises were yellowing, and the cuts on his face were slowly healing.

I realized I was still sitting on Soda, and sprung up haphazardly, making him tip sideways.

"Uh...we were...hah, uh..." I mumbled, trying to find a reasonable excuse.

Ricky just held up a hand, shaking his head. "Y'know what? I'll forget I saw anything if you two get out of the bathroom, I gotta take a whiz."

Too much information. I cleared my throat nervously and grabbed Soda's sleeve, dragging him along the linoleum floor out of the bathroom. Golly, was he ever heavy.

"Hey!" he protested still a little sleepily as I deposited him on the carpet in the hallway. "What woss that for?"

"Ricky needed to use the bathroom, and we were occupying the floor space."

Sodapop looked confused for a minute, and then it seemed to dawn on him. "Oh yeah," he said, a smile forming on his face. He wiggled his eyebrows at me. "You really loved that, didn't you, Red?"

I rolled my eyes. "Like you would know. You held me there like a captive. Flirt."

"I know you are, but what am I?"

"Oh, shut up."

Soda stood up, brushing himself off, and held out a hand. I raised an eyebrow at him. "If you want me to hold your hand, it ain't happenin' buster."

It was Soda's turn to roll his eyes. "It was supposed to be a handshake—as in, a truce—but if you want to be a little more friendly, that's great with me," he grinned slyly, his hazel eyes sparkling.

I felt myself blush, and Soda chuckled. "You're a jerk," I told him, turning to leave. I began to walk off, go outside and get some fresh air, but Soda's hand caught my arm.

"Aww c'mon Red, I was only messin' with ya. Where are you goin' anyway?"

"Out. I need to get some stuff. You know what it is next week?"

"Your birthday?" He asked, his eyes lighting up. "Ooh, what do you want? I make a mean chocolate cake, and—"

"No, you doofus. It's Thanksgiving."

Soda's face was blank for a moment, then he shook his head slowly. "No...we don't really celebrate Thanksgiving."

"Well," I retorted, poking him hard in the stomach, but then suddenly drawing back and clutching my hand. "Ow! Soda that hurt!"

He gave me that blank look again. "What?"

"What do you keep under there, bricks?" I demanded, shaking my hand and biting my lip, gesturing to his belly.

"Oh," he flashed me a gleaming grin. "That's just the good old muscles," he said, patting his stomach proudly. "I didn't mean to hurt you with my awesome, I'm sorry."

"Ha. Ha," I snapped back. I noticed then that he had shifted so he was blocking the hallway, and thus the exit to the house. I raised an eyebrow, and he gave me an innocent look. _Too _innocent.

"Well," I said, "I gotta go. See ya later." I tried to move around him, but he shifted his weight at just the right second for me to sprawl forward over his leg. Golly, Sodapop must've had good reflexes, because he caught me around the waist as I almost collided with the floor.

"Uh..."

I glanced up to see Ponyboy standing in the entry of the hallway, and Sodapop was half twisted around, holding me up a few inches off the floor. Second time that day I had been caught in an awkward situation with Soda.

I laughed nervously, trying to seem nonchalant, which under the circumstances was completely unrealistic. "Hi, Ponyboy."

"Um...hey?" Pony replied confusedly. "What're you—"

"Oh, calm down," Soda said, hoisting me up with ease, using only one arm. "She tripped, and I caught her."

"Tripped over you," I pointed out.

"Oh," Pony let out a breath, and he looked...was that relief on his face? "Well, this house is so small that when you get up in the morning to put your boots, you have to ask whoever's in them to scoot over. So...I'm gonna go to my room, draw a little. Wanna try some sketching?" Pony asked me hopefully.

I shook my head. "No thanks, I have a couple things I need to do before nightfall."

He seemed to sink at that. "Oh, okay. Where are you goin', Sodapop?"

"I have a date with a girl." Soda had a girl? I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Not surprised, I guess. He probably had another hundred in line.

"Okay...well if you guys wanna do anything later, let me know?"

"Yep!" Soda and I said together.

I went into the kitchen to see what was in the cupboards, and was greeted with something out of a cartoon—old cans of beans covered in dust and spiderwebs. "Really?" I said aloud.

"Really," Soda replied, hopping up on the counter and slurping out of a juice-box.

"_Really_?" I asked, gesturing to the juice-box. "How old are you?"

"Narry a day over six!" he sang grabbing the end of my braid with his free hand and giving himself a mustache.

"That's reason one why I should cut my hair," I muttered.

Soda looked at me in disbelief. "Cut your hair? Ooh don't do that! I like your hair!"

"Going on reason two. Well if you'll excuse me, I gotta go find a grocer. You guys are horrible at shopping, and the key ingredient to thanksgiving is food."

"I thought it was giving thanks."

I scoffed. "What are you? A Soc?"

Sodapop shrugged. "No, just it's bein' called Thanksgiving and everything gave me that impression."

I rolled my eyes. "To give thanks, you have to have something to be thankful for, Soda."

"Well I have you," he said playfully.

"Yeah, uh-huh," I said sarcastically.

"Fine then, you have me, and that's an invitation for thanks right there," he countered jokingly.

"Whatever," I said, pulling my new jacket off the sofa. I really liked this jacket. It was a thick black leather aviator's jacket, and it had pockets in all sorts of unexpected places.

"Nice jacket," Soda noted.

"Thanks," I said shortly. I checked the inside pocket to see if the cash was still there. It was. "Don't you have a girl to go out with?"

"Oh yeah, that's right," Soda said, a silly grin spreading across his face. Must have been some girl. "I'll just stick with you until she shows. Mind if I walk with you?" he asked, and without waiting for a reply, scooped his own jacket off the armchair, and proceeded to slipping it on.

We walked for a while, Soda showing off, doing some acrobatics down the street, and I had to admit, I was kind of impressed. He was limber and coordinated—for a guy. I mostly watched him, and stood there in an awkward silence. He told a pretty funny joke, though I don't remember what it was, and I noticed that as we laughed, he slipped his arm around my waist.

I raised an eyebrow at him, and he grinned pearly-white but didn't say anything.

"Say Soda, where's that girl of yours?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, she's kinda stiff with me, I'm working on it."

"What's she like?"

Sodapop looked pensive for a moment. "Pretty fiery. I like her a lot, she voices her opinion, and doesn't mind standin' up to people, but she seems to get nervous around guys."

"Oh. What does she look like?" I asked curiously, making conversation. I didn't want this to get any more awkward, and silence would do that.

"Well," he said as we neared the neighborhood grocery store. "She's got long, mostly dark curly hair, and pretty icy blue eyes. Sort of tall, but not too much. Maybe a little shorter than Pony. And she has the most fascinating scar," we stopped in front of the store, and I flinched as he raised his hand, but he only traced his thumb down past my cheekbone. "Runnin' down her face. I'll have to ask her how she got that," he flashed a grin, and bounded off, leaving me standing there, fuming, with my mouth hanging open.

_What was he playing at?_


	11. Chapter 11

Soda and Red sure seem to be getting along well. But Soda gets along with just about anyone, and girls get along with Soda because they liked him.

I sighed. Soda seemed to be everything I wasn't, in all the best ways. Sodapop was handsome, charming, and he knew how to use his head. He could melt girls like butter on a hot day, and here I was—awkward and kinda shy. I couldn't flirt with a girl if you gave me a manual on how to do it—which was exactly what I needed, a manual on girls. I at least wish I looked more like Soda, then it wouldn't really bother me so much that I was romantically challenged. Girls just didn't notice me.

I sat in my room for a long while, and when I looked outside, it seemed near dusk. Red sure had been gone a while. I decided to go and meet her, at least to make sure she was getting home okay—I wasn't getting anything accomplished here anyway. If Soda was already there with her, that wouldn't matter either. He's got a girl anyway.

I slipped on my shoes and jacket and began trekking down the sidewalk, noticing my breath hanging like smoke in front of me, it was that cold. I shivered.

The grocery store was in view when I realized that I hadn't seen hide nor hair of Red, and she had a lot of hair to see, so that was saying something. She couldn't have been in the store that long, it's been several hours. I decided to go in and look anyway, and even asked the clerk. He said she was definitely there, he couldn't forget her if he tried to, and that she had left. He also told me that I'd been the second guy to ask about her. I wondered who the other was, but didn't ask, and just left.

I walked around for a while, it began to snow lightly, but that snow sure gathered on the ground fast, like powdered sugar on a donut. It began to get dark, and I could feel myself getting more tense as the sun sank into the horizon. Not only was Red missing, but so were the rest of the guys. I hadn't seen them since...since Soda brought me home from the Shepards' land. I shivered again, but I don't think it was from the cold this time.

I couldn't go home, as far as I knew, no one was there anyway, except Ricky, and he didn't make real good company—but only because nobody really knew him at all, and he only talked when he wanted to make a point. It was like he thought his words were special, and only deserved to be heard when he felt it so. Pompous words. Haha.

I wandered around like a lost dog after that, the sun was receding into the earth, and I didn't even think about where I was going until I heard a clattering noise, like metal falling.

I suddenly noticed my surroundings, and zeroed in on the disturbance. The DX. A light was on in the garage, and there were continual clanging noises. Then it dawned on me it must be one of the guys! I mean, the only people that work there are Steve, Soda, and the manager, Jeb Pritchett. Pritchett is a pretty cool guy, he lets me help work on the cars sometimes, and has big parties in the garage every once in a while that Steve and Soda invite us to—not that I ever get to go, Darry hasn't let me since a couple of drunk guys went to the hospital because there was a fight, and they pulled some of the shop equipment on each other. I..._think_...they both lived.

I let out a sigh of relief and immediately began sprinting towards the station. Someone was in there mumbling to themselves. I poked my head around the corner, and didn't see anyone at first. My eyes surveyed the scene, and drifted to one of the cars in the lifts. I felt my jaw go slack as my gaze looked up there, saw who was in that car. Red, unmistakably—her head was leaning against the window, and her hair was pressed against it. But she shifted slightly, her face split in a grin with laughter, and I saw Sodapop. She was sitting on his lap. I realized no one had been mumbling to themselves at all, but that Red and Soda had been conversing animatedly, and their being in the car had muffled it.

I felt my heart split in two. I thought Sodapop had a girl. It occurred to me now what he might have meant. He had had his sights on a girl, and that girl had been Red. And it looked like he was winning—winning her. My heart sank, I had no chance against Sodapop—he was literally a girl's dream guy, then there was me, awkward and shy, not too good-looking. I felt resignation begin to sweep over me, but then it suddenly met by violent defiance.

I could be just as good as Soda. I wouldn't let Red slip away.

All I needed was a plan. I left, feeling fiery and determined. I could win this.


	12. Chapter 12

Red's POV

I gathered all the stuff we needed, which was a lot. I was just going to play it safe and ride under the assumption that the entire gang would be eating the biggest meal of the year with us, and even with me pocketing some things instead of buying them, I lost about half of the money that I'd accumulated over the past few weeks—which I'll tell you, was a very sizable amount. The clerk seemed pretty suspicious to see a grease girl with a large wad of cash, but said nothing when I flashed him an innocent smile.

When I got out, I realized that I had not thought this out very well. I had about five very heavy paper bags to carry, and only two arms. Oops. After a while, I had designed a very precarious way of carrying all of them without killing myself, but I still weaved down the sidewalk like a drunk. And home was about half and hour away on foot. About five hundred feet from the store, I felt ready to give up and just ditch the foodstuffs somewhere, but then all five of the bags suddenly vanished from my arms.

Surprised and without the counterweight I had a second ago, I dropped forward, but a leg thrust out and caught me. Looking up, my eyes were greeted with a grinning Sodapop, who had to lean around all the bags to see me. "Hey, pretty lady."

"I don't need help," I said shortly, straightening and snatching the heavy bags back from him.

Soda just tutted and eased them right back into his arms. "Sure you do, Little Red."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Little...Red?"

"Yup!" he grinned happily, and I took the opportunity to swipe three of the bags from him. "Like Little Red Riding Hood."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "Wow, that sure makes me feel swell. Now I'm a trippy toddler who talks to wolves that like to eat old women, and can't tell the difference between the two. Thanks."

Soda rolled his eyes playfully. "Wrong side of the spectrum, m'dear. More like...the brave, independent toddler who tactically saves the old woman and cuts up the wolf with an ax."

"A lumberjack cut up the wolf, after the trippy toddler got eaten," I countered.

"There are different versions," he shot back, snatching a bag from me, so he had three and I had two. I decided to just give in—there was no swaying him. He seemed to notice my resolve and grinned triumphantly, his dark hazel eyes twinkling.

Walking for a long while, Soda began to spout jokes and point out things he found interesting. It was like he saw the beauty in everything, and for a moment—I envied him. I was too hateful to see the world like he did. I wondered about it, guilt coursing through me like cold water. I was too hateful. Does hating make you a bad person? Because if it does, I'm headed straight for the bottomless pit when it's time to meet my maker.

"Red? Do I need to shoot a pistol here? Hullo?" I was brought back to real life, seeing Sodapop's head was cocked to the side, and his eyes regarding me curiously. He reminded me of a puppy, sort of.

"What?" I asked stupidly.

"I said, I have a better idea. We could just take this stuff to the DX, it's much closer and I work there, and I can just bring this home in the truck. You dig?"

I considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Better than luggin' this stuff home like this."

Soda smiled. "Well, milady, right this way!" and he pivoted to an immediate left, and I almost tripped over him.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," I grumbled, hugging the paper sacks closer.

"What? Milady?" he asked, turning to me and grinning. "You're right, I shouldn't call you that. You're not my lady yet!"

He dodged my elbow that I threw at him, since my hands were occupied, and grinned like it was the funniest thing in the world.

"I love teasing you."

"Do you _want _to get clobbered in the head?"

"Oh trust me, you've got me clobbered enough since I fell head over heels for you," he joked. Despite that, I felt myself blush, and he seemed to get a real riot out of that. "Aww, look, Red's turnin' red!"

I didn't reply, just walked alongside him in huffy silence. We began to near the station, a battered blue and red DX. A sign in the window read, "Closed."

Soda tried to reach into his shirt pocket, but I guess that's kind of a feat if you're carrying three heavy shopping bags in your arms. "Little help here?" he asked.

I hesitated for a moment, then, moving a bag over to my other arm, reached tentatively into his shirt pocket. Soda just grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

"They aren't there," I said, withdrawing my hand, unsurprised.

"Maybe you should try the other pocket?" he suggested, his voice sly.

"Soda, I don't know what you're tryin' to do, but it's gettin' annoyin'."

Soda just grinned good-naturedly. "Oh really?"

"Stop bein' such a flirt, Sodapop Curtis," I said, easing the key out of his back pocket where I saw him stash it earlier. He shoved it into the lock, looking disappointed now that his little game was over. I surveyed the scene, trying to make sure I had a good bearing on my surroundings, when I noticed the garage connected to the station. And the door was open.

"Hey, Sodapop," I whispered. "I have a secret I need to tell you. It's been getting to me for a while...I need to tell someone."

Soda immediately took interest. "Of course, you can tell me anything!"

I pretended to look around to make sure no one was nearby, and leaned closer to him. "_The garage door is open_," I whispered loudly.

He just gave me a look that seemed shocked for a second, but then a grin spread on his face. He leaned closer to me, so close that I could smell his lavender scent, and whispered even louder back, beaming, "_I know_."

I elbowed him, and we went inside. "Got anything very perishable in here?" he asked, turning a bag over on the counter, so that the contents spilled, and proceeding to put it on his head. I giggled shamelessly—I couldn't help it.

"No, not really," I said, smiling, easing off my jacket and looking around. "Hey, this place is really nifty."

"I know, I love it here, almost as much as Steve does," Soda replied, leaning against the wall next to me trying to look flirtatious—with still a paper bag on his head. I laughed again, and he pushed the bag up just so that his mouth showed, and he was beaming. I snatched the bag off his head.

"While we're at is, wanna show me around? I have a little thing for cars. Not that I know anything about them," I said.

"Sure!" Soda said enthusiastically. "First, I show you the counter!" he gestured to it like a show girl. "You bring things to this counter, and Steve or I ring them up! Today, we are ringing up—" he picked up a bag of broccoli, making a face. "Broccoli. Ugh, good, I don't want that in my store anyway, unless you put butter on it!" he dropped the broccoli, regarding it in mock distaste. "And yeah, that's all this room has to offer, pretty much. So come instead to the garage!" he exclaimed, grabbing my hand and towing me along behind him. His hand was warm and calloused, but I didn't mind.

The garage was awesome. There were four car lifts, sort of like jacks built into the structure, except they lifted the cars about seven feet off the ground, where they seemed suspended in mid-air. Soda showed me around the entire thing, where the tools were and such, and what they did. He was explaining something with wrench thicknesses, but I wasn't listening, just marveling at the jack-like machine. Soda noticed and followed my gaze, his face breaking into a smile. "Like what you see?"

"I wasn't looking at you," I said immediately without thinking. Soda beamed crazily, and I felt my face get hot.

"You wanna go up in one of them?" Soda asked eagerly.

My eyes widened. "Really? That would be amazing!"

"Ask and you shall receive," he replied, winking. "I'll give you a boost."

"What?" I asked, bewildered. "But if there's a car in it, there's surely a way to lower it."

Soda waved that off. "Nah, takes too long."

"Oh...how am I gonna get up then? I hope you know I have like zero upper-body strength, I ain't hoistin' myself up."

"Okay, I have a different idea then," he said simply. Then he just jumped and grabbed the platform that two tires were supported on, and pulled himself up easily and gracefully. Never imagined I'd see a guy be that lithe.

"Well what are you goggling at? C'mon!" he said, lowering a hand to me. Hesitantly, I put my hand in his, then he gave me his other hand, and pulled me up like that, easy as pie. I seemed to weigh nothing to him.

The platform was narrow, so I was really aware that Soda had an arm around me as he opened the car door. "Ladies first?" he gestured courteously, and I carefully slid into the car, scooting across the bench seat to make room for him. He sidled in after me, slamming it shut. It was weird, being this high off the ground and knowing there was nothing directly under you. I shivered, and tried to make it look like I was stretching, but Soda noticed anyway. "Do you want my jacket?" he asked immediately.

"You don't have one, smarty," I retorted playfully.

He looked down at his arms like he didn't believe me. "Oh. Uh..." and his face lit up as he extended his arms to me. I hesitated, shaking my head. I was worried I'd end up falling asleep like that, ever since I got sick I was tired easily, and now was one of those times. Why are the guys around here so friendly?

Soda nodded like he understood, but his face looked slightly dejected, and I instantly felt bad. So I made a compromise—I leaned against him, and honestly, I'm glad I did, he was nice and warm, and I had to resist the urge to wrap my arms around him.

He seemed to pick up on what I was thinking though, because he was stifling a chuckle. Without realizing it, I began to slowly close my eyes and Soda started humming softly, and I could feel it through his chest. Soda's arm snaked over my shoulders and to my side, pressing me to him.

It didn't even occur to me to think, _Hey, this is sorta awkward_. It felt okay to just stay there like that. I was warm and comfortable and sleepy. Soda began to rub my arm with his thumb in slow circles, and I could feel myself fighting to stay awake, but it wasn't because I didn't want to fall asleep...I was captured in a happy moment, and I wanted it to stay like that as long as possible.

So I stayed like that, on the verge of sleep, Sodapop humming a slow tune softly, the steady rise and fall of his chest while he rubbed my arm slowly.

"Sodapop," I murmured.

"Hmm?"

I don't know why, but I didn't reply. Heck, I don't know why I spoke up in the first place. Soda just chuckled softly after that. He has a nice voice, and he's so warm.

"You know something?" he asked, but he seemed to be talking to himself. "I may not be the be the smartest person in the world, but I know one thing—love is stupid. Ah, but what do you care, Red? I don't think you love anyone. You just bear our company out of gratitude." He must have thought I was asleep. I wasn't, was I? Maybe this was all just a dream. "It hurts, because you're as heartless as Dallas Winston himself. You don't and can't love. But that doesn't mean I can't pretend. You can't love me, but it can work the other way around," I don't know why, but hearing Soda say those things really made me die a little inside. Not because of what he said about me. But because of how pained he sounded.

_I don't care, _I thought to myself. _I'm happy, so it doesn't matter. _

Maybe I really am heartless.

I woke up, and I was nestled into Soda's lap, my head resting against his shoulder, and his arms encircled me. His jacket, that he hadn't had last night, was draped over us. I looked out the now closed garage door to see the sun just barely clearing the horizon. It had to have been very early morning. Darry must be worried.

I didn't know how to move off of Soda without waking him, so I just sat there, feeling my face burning. How did I always end up with my arms around someone, or their arms around me?

I gazed at Soda's face, realizing for the first time how exceptionally handsome he really was. I mean, I had always known he was above average, but now, with the early morning sunrise on his face, he looked like Apollo's younger, better-looking brother. I could describe everything about him that made him look so much better than other guys, but the list would probably be close to endless.

How the guy didn't have a girlfriend, I didn't know. Not that it mattered to me anyway. It wasn't my business.

Sitting there, I just watched his face, and I had an urge to trace the lines of it with my fingertip. But then I heard a low noise, and felt it too, reverberating. I wondered what it was, and out of curiosity, placed my hand on Soda's chest. So that's what it was—he was humming. He smiled before he even opened his eyes, and I couldn't help but smile too—suddenly his dark hazel eyes were on me, and now he was grinning.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

I blushed as his grip around me tightened a little. "Good morning, Sodapop."

He chuckled. "Has anybody ever told you that you're really pretty in the sunrise?"

I felt my face get even more red. "Well...no..."

He rested his fingertips on my face, and I could see that he looked sad. "You are. Your eyes...the gold really stands out." He traced one of his fingers along my face, and normally I would have been so uncomfortable that I would've squirmed away, but now I couldn't move—I was frozen. I couldn't think either, so I just sat there like a dumb duck.

"You still haven't told me how you got this scar," he reminded me, still tracing it with his index finger, his hazel eyes flicking to mine. I realized I wasn't breathing, and took a deep breath that came out a sigh. Sodapop looked at me quizzically.

"I—I got that two years ago, right after I first left. I was heading north to New York, but somehow screwed up and went on a small detour to Newark, in NJ." I paused and flinched, remembering the ordeal. It still sent shivers down my spine. "In Newark I was looking for a place to stay the night, since no one had given me a ride out of there—and I try to avoid traveling at night, because...well, because..." I stopped again, and swallowed, but continued anyway. "Well I hadn't any money at all, and a hotel manager had kicked me onto the street. A guy offered me a place to stay, and I thought about it, but turned him down quickly. He didn't like that. He pinned me to a wall, and demanded I come with him, or..." I put my hand over his fingertips, feeling the soft line of the scar down my face. "He cut me. It...it wouldn't have been so bad, but he did it slowly—and he threatened me. With everything under the sun."

Soda was quiet for a moment. "He scared you. The stupid bastard just wanted to scare you."

"Maybe," I said, shivering involuntarily. It still gave me the creeps.

Soda noticed and pulled me closer. "They ain't gonna hurt you no more," he sighed.

Suddenly, Steve tapped on the window, making me jump and Soda swear under his breath. I tried to discreetly scoot off of Soda's lap, but his arms held me there like a straight jacket as he rolled down the window. "What do you want?" he asked, and I could tell he was trying not to sound annoyed.

Steve looked haughtily back at him, trying to be humorous, but he was tense. Something was up?

"Well, I just came to tell you that I covered your sorry—er...butt—yesterday. Darry flipped when you guys weren't there when he got home, and I said that you told me you were gonna go to the station—which was a complete lie of course, I had no idea you were planning to go anywhere. I came here anyway, because Jeb said he we were in charge of closing up shop, and the lights were on and stuff, and you guys were sitting up here being cute, but Red looked cold so I got your jacket, and...well geez Sodapop you don't give the other guys a fair chance, not even Ponyboy!" Steve said quickly.

Throughout this I eased myself slowly off of Soda while he listened to Steve, and he finally noticed—his eyes seemed confused and hurt, like he was was asking why.

I bit my lip nervously, and I was pressed against the opposite door of the car like a cornered animal. "Well, I really have to...uh...take them groceries home..."

Steve waved his hand. "No need, I took them back and hid them from the other guys. I realized it was Thanksgiving stuff. Say, do you mind if I come over and eat with you guys?" he asked Soda.

Soda nodded, his eyebrows knit together. I felt horrible. "Sure you can," he said absently.

Suddenly a voice from down below called, "Hey you guyyys!" and Ponyboy's head popped up over the platform, except on this side of the car, the rest of him following as he lifted himself up onto the jack. "Hey, Little Red," he said, opening my door and pulling me out of the car.

He swung me around, and I protested in panic, "Be careful, you're gonna kill me! We're on a ledge you know!" but he didn't seem to care. For a second, he almost dropped me, and without thinking I wrapped my arms and legs around Pony's torso, yelling my head off. Heights kind of bothered me—not that they stopped me from living my life. I could deal. Unless I'm being dropped from one of those heights.

Ponyboy laughed lightly at my reaction.

"It's not funny," I growled, detaching myself from him. When I looked into the vehicle, Soda's head was on the steering wheel, and Steve was muttering into his ear. I felt horrible. I was going to pipe up, but then Ponyboy said, "Close your eyes, I got something to show you."

I scoffed in disbelief. "Fat chance. You'll throw me off the side."

Ponyboy rolled his eyes. "I like you too much to kill you, Little Red. C'mon, please?"

I bit my lip, thinking for a moment. Ah, what the heck. "Fine, go for it," I said, shutting my eyelids. Suddenly, something tickled my lips. I raised my eyebrows, wondering what it was, but then it was gone, and Pony pressed something into my hand.

"You can look now."

I opened my eyes and raised my hand to my face, and there was a daisy. A little daisy, but a daisy nevertheless. "Where did you—" I began, but he pressed a finger to my lips.

"A master shares naught his secrets."

"And that means?"

"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies," he says, quoting me. I cracked a smile, tucking the flower into my braid. I don't know why, but I liked to wear braids just to be able to stick things in them. It didn't even matter what it was, not really. Pencils, paperclips, jewelry (not that I really had any), and my favorite—flowers.

Ponyboy cocked his head quizzically.

"What?" I asked. "Ain't you ever seen a girl with a flower in her hair?"

"Not one that has hair longer than Rapunzel's."

I rolled my eyes. "You should meet some of the hippies yonder north. There is some major long hair and flowers."

Pony shrugged, and kneeling, grabbed the side of the platform. He gave me a devilish grin and somersaulted over the side.

I squeaked, and Steve glanced up from his conversation with Soda. "What?"

Ponyboy emerged from under the jack, and beamed at me smugly. "Your turn."

I looked at him in disbelief. "You're going to have an easier time luring a piece of cheese to a mouse."

"You can't lure cheese to a mouse," Steve pointed out. "You can't lure it much of anywhere."

"Exactly."

"Well, you could just jump down," Pony suggested.

"Hah, no," I said, crossing my arms.

"I'll catch you," he offered, extending his arms. I shook my head, and he cocked his. "What's wrong?" he asked curiously. "It's like ten feet."

"Do you need her to draw a picture?" Soda asked him, getting out of the car and crossing over to this side of the jack. "She's uncomfortable with heights."

"Oh. Then how the heck are you gonna get down?" Pony asked.

"Like this," Soda said, scooping me up before I could protest, then jumping off the thing. I think I might have accidentally strangled him a bit, because his laughter was clipped, and when he set me down he rubbed his neck.

"_Sodapop whatever-the-hell-your-middle-name-is Curtis_!" I seethed. "If you ever, _ever _pull something like that again, I will _personally_ put a bullet where the sun don't shine!"

You could tell I was completely ticked, because I try not to swear, ever.

He only smirked, and Ponyboy gave him a cold look, grabbing me on the shoulder and wheeling me around. "C'mon," he mumbled, and we left.


	13. Chapter 13

Red had come with me without hesitation, and she seemed ready to kill. She stood perfectly straight, her tread tense and her chin high. She pulled the little daisy gently out of her braid, then commenced to ripping out the rubber band that held it there, mussing up her hair so it would fall loose.

Red would have looked proud, and regal almost, but her fist shook, and I noticed the daisy was about to become a daisy-colored blob if I didn't rescue it. I plucked it out of her hand quickly, and tucked it behind her ear, flashing a smile. Red's ice-colored eyes flicked to me curiously, and her face softened a little as a small smile moved her lips. We turned the corner, where the green Ford Galaxy sat, gleaming in the sunlight. I opened the door for her on the passenger side, and she hesitated.

"Go on, I'm not gonna kill you, not after all the much better opportunities I've had," I said patiently, smiling in sarcasm.

"Where are we even going?" she asked.

I had planned this previously, so I knew exactly where we were going, but I shrugged and gave her a mischievous smile. "If I told you that, you would know."

"That's the point of my asking."

"Well that's just no fun."

She sighed, but said, "Fine, as long as I'm away from your dumb idiot of a brother."

I felt a twinge of guilt as a wave of relief washed over me, but sped down the streets of the East Side, until we ended up not too far from my house, in fact, it was only two streets away. I stopped the car by a bridge that had a now frozen stream running under it. I got out, and went to Red's side to open her door, but she popped up from it before I got a chance.

"Drives nice," she said, grinning coolly.

I smiled back and stepped closer, scooping her up into my arms as she protested.

"Nup. C'mere, I got somethin' to show ya," I said simply, beaming at her.

Red stopped wiggling and laughed lightly. "Alright, Pony. Hurry up, you're making me feel like a little girl."

"You are a little girl," I retorted jokingly, tossing her up into the air and catching her again.

She laughed and her eyes twinkled. "I am not! I'm fourteen, same as you!"

I rolled my eyes. "Which is why you weigh negative forty pounds, sister."

It was Red's turn to roll her eyes as I set her back on her feet. We were right at the side of the bridge, a steep hill leading down to the riverbank. I extended a hand to her, and she flinched. I felt a pang of sadness. Really, if you move too fast around that girl she nearly jumps out of her skin. I'd hate to think about what happened to her to make her like this.

I slowly wrapped my hand around her wrist, being careful to not make her jump, and stepped carefully down the gravelly hill, making sure she followed suit and didn't fall and kill herself. We were doing a pretty good job too, until she stumbled, and almost went into the half-frozen stream.

"Sorry," she gasped, steadying herself on me.

I waved her off, chuckling lightly. "For what?"

She mumbled something, and blushed. Gosh, I loved it when she blushed. I led her under the bridge. It may have seemed kind of stupid, but I had started coming to this bridge a lot in the past two months. The underside of it was perfect. In warm weather, you never got too hot, and you could see the sunrise and set perfectly from here.

Red strayed to the waterside and stared into the ice. I remembered her doing that before, when I had found her at the fountain. Why, though? I wondered, moving next to her. Her eyes flick to my reflection in the thin ice, then back to her previous focus. I didn't see what she could possibly have been staring at, though—it wasn't her reflection though.

Red's reflection surprised me. It didn't look like the excitable but shy girl that I knew—she looked cold. Not as in, temperature cold. More like...hatred cold.

Those eyes I knew. I couldn't stop the name from appearing in my head—Dallas Winston. I nearly choked at the thought of him...Red's eyes were no longer in the ice...where had she gone? Someone began to shake me. _Stop,_ I wanted to say, _I have to find Red! Stop shaking me!_

But the shaking persisted, a grip on my shoulders. Make it stop... Finally I couldn't take anymore, and stumbled back from the assailant.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she lost her balance, tipping back into the cold biting water of the stream, and I came back into focus.

"Red? Red? Are you okay?" I asked worriedly, hastily retrieving her from the water, but she only giggled when I pulled her up. Why does it seem so unusual when she giggles?

"Hehe, I'm soaked to the bone. Ponyboy, it's cold out here—why does it get so cold, we haven't even passed Thanksgiving yet!"

"I don't know, I guess Frosty the Snowman is getting paid overtime," I remarked absently, removing her coat—it was going to get her sick, if not worse. Red's teeth began to chatter, and I slipped my jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders. She gave me a grateful look, and I nodded, smiling uneasily.

"Let's get you home," I said, and scooped her up. Even soaking wet, she didn't weigh much.

"I can walk!" she protested.

"You can, but you won't."

She pouted and wriggled while I carried her back to the car, but she wasn't going anywhere. We drove home quickly, the engine of the Galaxy rumbling as I pulled up to the house. Soda and Steve must've been walking home from the DX, because they were about half-a-block away, and when I pulled her out of the car, they broke into a sprint.

"What happened?" Soda demanded, grabbing Red out of my arms.

"She fell into the stream, I wasn't paying attention, and—"

Steve rolled his eyes, but Soda said, "Tell me something new! She's been sick, Ponyboy, you have to be careful, pneumonia kills, you know!"

"This is the last time I'm asking before heads roll, put me down!" Red seethed, but Soda paid no attention as he carried her inside. I followed him tensely, muttering to myself. Soda wasn't being fair.

Soda gently lowered her onto the couch. Suddenly his gaze turned sharply to me. "Well? Don't you want to make yourself useful and get some blankets?"

I tried to return a glare, but I'm pretty sure there was too much confusion in my features to look malevolent. I don't remember the last time I've ever seen Soda this...irate. I grabbed a heap of blankets from our tiny hall closet, and went back into the living room—to find Soda's hand on Red's cheek!

"Soda! What are you doing?" I asked in a half-confounded, half-angry voice, gripping the blankets tightly.

His head snapped up in surprise. "Checking her temperature. What did ya think I was doin'?"

I stood there stupidly for a second. After what I saw last night, I guess I was pretty paranoid. Soda had a huge jump-start on me though, that's for sure—so I had a reason to be cautious. Every time Red had hung out with him (which I guess was only once) she had only had a good time it seemed. Whenever she was alone with me, I realized, some horrible complication always arose. Maybe I was a bad luck charm.

I nudged Soda over with my foot, and tucked the blankets around Red. She was protesting and attempting to get up, but you could tell she wasn't really trying. Besides, her teeth were chattering so hard that seemed like they were gonna break, and you couldn't understand a word she was saying.

I put a hand over her mouth, but she nearly bit me—accidentally...I think. "Pipe down, will you? You're not going anywhere. The thing you need is a relapse. That would be perfect. Now shut up before I get even more guilty."

"T-th-th-this w-w-was-n-n't y-y-your f-f-f-ault!" she chattered back.

"That's not helping. Now shush, I'm gonna make you some soup."

She stopped talking after that, but I could hear her teeth chattering from the kitchen. I made one of my favorite kinds of soup—mushroom. Darry always made mushroom soup when it was cold outside, or when I was sick. I had made a giant pot of it, because the other guys liked mushroom soup too, and maybe then no one would have to cook the rest of the day.

I took out a bowl for Red and one for myself. When I reached the couch, she wasn't shivering and chattering as much, but she was still freezing cold.

"Here," I said, handing her her bowl. "Be careful, it's hot."

"Th-thanks," Red replied eagerly, sitting up and taking the soup.

"Where'd Soda go?" I asked.

Red shrugged, more interested in the soup than my inquiry. "Darry called him upstairs. I didn't even know you guys had an upstairs."

That poked at me. The attic...yeah, we had an attic on the second floor of our house, but we never went up there. At least...not since Mom and Dad died. The stuff of theirs that we hadn't gotten rid of was up there, and neither Soda, Darry or I had ever had the urge to go see it.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

Red nodded, sipping the soup from her spoon slowly. "Yep. When someone says, 'Hey, get up here,' and you hear another someone stomping up what sounds like stairs, you tend to get the impression that there's an upstairs. By the way, this is really good."

"Yeah, thanks," I said, but I was already halfway down the hall.

I stepped into the laundry room, to where the hatch for the attic was. The folding stairs were down, and light shone yellow light shone into the windowless laundry room. Labored breathing could be heard along with debating mutters.

I went up the stairs quietly, wincing when they creaked under my weight. The attic was windowless, so the only light came from a small lamp on a night table that accompanied a small metal-framed bed. Darry and Soda had their heads pressed together, murmuring over the sound of pained breathing, and obscuring some of the bed. The rest of it was covered by labeled cardboard boxes, so the only thing I could see was a large hand hanging over the side of the bed, decorated by a single silver ring. I recognized that ring.

He'd gotten it from rolling a drunk. I knew the ring, and how he got it, but who the person was—that was beyond me, I didn't know and didn't care to. I creaked back downstairs quickly and cautiously, and went back to Red.

Red was asleep, her cheeks gaining color again and slightly warmer. The soup bowl lay on the coffee table, empty. I moved to the armchair and began eating my soup, now cold. I was almost finished, when Red squeaked and rolled onto the floor. Red squeaked?

Quickly setting my soup down, I rushed over to her. "Red? Red, are you alright?" I shook her gently, and her thick lashes fluttered, but her eyes remained closed.

I lifted her back onto the couch, slurped up the rest of the soup, and took our bowls to the kitchen, washing them. When I came back to the living room, Red was on the floor again, flopped onto her side, her hair all over the place. It just occurred to me how odd it was; her hair hadn't gotten wet at all. It seemed perfectly dry.

I sighed and leaned down, picking Red up, carrying her to my room. When we got there I slowly lowered her onto the bed, and when I drew back her icy eyes were regarding me, her face showing an expression I couldn't place.

"Ponyboy."

"What?" I asked softly, sitting down on the other side of the bed, then leaning against the headboard and closing my eyes. Boy, was I tired.

"Nothing. I just like your name."

I smiled. "I like your name too. It's simple, but I don't know anyone else in the world by it."

"Who do you know by it?"

"You."

"Yeah—but do you know who I am?"

"I do," I replied softly. "The greatest girl I've ever met."

Red was silent for a moment. Then she said, "I hate you Curtises, the whole lot of you."

I opened my eyes in surprise, pivoting my gaze to her. "What? Why?"

"Because you are and introduced me to the only people in the world that I can tolerate."

"What's so bad about that?"

"Because if I decide to leave you...it'll be the worst decision I ever made," she replied simply, leaning on me. I could feel her cold cheek on my shoulder through my t-shirt.

"You're a cold person, you know that?" I said in a severe tone.

"Ponyboy..."

"Like seriously, I believe the fever I've had is God-given, just to keep you warm," I continued seriously.

Red laughed softly. "You're doing poorly right now, Ponyboy. I'm stark cold."

"Well that can be easily corrected," I grinned, wrapping my arms around her. She shivered. "What? Am I making you colder?" I asked confusedly.

"No," she whispered, pressing to me."It just surprised me. I keep forgetting how warm you are."

"Good. I'll stick around to keep reminding you," I sighed, closing my eyes.

"Hey, Ponyboy?"

"Hmm?"

"What does it feel like to love someone?"

"What?" I asked, my eyes opening again, thrown off. "What do you mean?"

I felt her tense. "Just...y'know, you have your brothers and this gang...I figured you'd know...with so many around you like that."

"Haven't you ever loved someone?" I asked hesitantly.

"I have...but I think I've forgotten what's it like. It's hard to know what love is like when everyone you love disappears," she said, a quiver in her voice.

"What made you think of it?"

"Nothing," she replied hastily.

"Tell me," I pressed.

"Really, it was nothing," she said, staring forward, her face hard.

I pushed her hair over her other shoulder, leaning towards her ear. "Tell me," I whispered into it, causing her to shiver.

"Ponyboy, really..."

Then I did something even I didn't expect. I lifted her onto my lap, my arms still wrapped around her. Her back was against me, but we were at about eye-level. "Tell me," I breathed down her neck. "Please."

I could feel her breath escape, and I leaned my head on her shoulder. "I—I can't..."

"Yes, you can," I said, brushing my lips against her neck bravely. "You can tell me anything."

"I...I seriously can't," she said breathlessly.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because you made me forget..."

I laughed softly. "Is that a good thing?"

"My judgment is highly impaired right now, don't ask me questions..." she replied shortly.

I chuckled, rolling her back onto the bed. "Let's get some sleep, you flirt," I said, rolling onto my other side.

She began to protest, but apparently decided against it, and just pressed against me. I knew she was doing it for the warmth, but I still mumbled, "Flirt," so she couldn't hear it.


	14. Chapter 14

I was woken later that night, when Red pushed me out of bed.

"What?" I asked bleary-eyed, sitting up from my position on the floor. After a minute, I stood up, brushing myself off, and saw Red laying face-down, her arms flung everywhere, breathing deeply. She rolled me out of bed. Wow. Thanks.

I was kind of hungry, so I tucked the blankets around Red and went to the kitchen to dig around in the cupboards. Nothing, unless I wanted chocolate cake—which we always had, everyone in the gang loved chocolate cake. Especially Sodapop, his anatomy was probably fifty percent chocolate from all of it that he ate.

I couldn't settle on anything in there, so I just sat and tried to convince myself I wanted chocolate cake. Maybe I would've wanted it, but Sodapop made this one I'm pretty sure, and he always makes the icing too sweet.

I think I was about to fall asleep right there at the table, but then I heard a loud crash, accompanied by even louder guffawing and a lot of cussing. Then from my room, "_Shut up, I'm trying to sleep—you morons—_I was just having the best dream ever and you had to go and wake me up! _God forbid_ I can actually sleep without something happening, can't fate or whatever the heck controls spontaneity hold off for_ ten fizzking seconds! Ugh!_"

Just then, Two-Bit's head poked into the kitchen. "Your girl's gonna get it," he said, smirking evilly. I shrugged and dropped my head on the table again.

It was silent for a few moments, but then, "_TWO-BIT! STEVE! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU GUYS!_"

Steve ran into the kitchen, chortling, and shoved under the table, followed by Two-Bit, who shut himself in the broom closet, and I could hear him trying not to snicker.

Red half-stormed, half-stumbled into the kitchen, holding her piece of glass in one hand and the little silver switchblade in the other. Her eyes were manic. "Where are they?" she demanded. "Tell me or you're going from a Ponyboy to a decapitated Ponyboy!"

I sat there, my eyes wide. "How do you even know what that means?"

"I know, and I'll demonstrate if you don't tell me where dumb-ass one and dumb-ass two went!" Red replied angrily, brandishing the knife near my throat, I scooted my chair back and held up my hands in surrender.

Suddenly a large hand wrapped around her wrist, and I looked up to see Soda smirking. I felt Steve tense under the table.

"Calm down, cupcake."

Red looked at him in disbelief. "What did you just call me?"

"Cupcake."

Red stood there looking dumbfounded for a minute. Then unexpectedly, she dove under the table, and Steve jolted against me, knocking me backwards in my chair. Two-Bit jumped from the closet and wrapped his arms around Red from behind as she struggled against his grip.

"_Blood will be spilled tonight!_" she spat angrily, still fighting against Two-Bit's hold—but he was pretty strong, I knew that personally from the time he arm-wrestled me and almost busted my arm off at the elbow. He only chuckled and rolled his eyes.

After a while, Red settled down. Steve and Two-Bit apologized for creeping up on her and tickling her. She accepted Two-Bit's apology easily, giving him a lopsided grin, but smiled coldly at Steve as if to say, _This isn't over_. Steve and Soda exchanged nervous shrugs.

"So who wants dinner?" Darry asked tiredly, coming into the kitchen. A collective cheer rang out from the rest of us, and he smiled.

"I can make dinner," Red offered kindly. Darry shook his head.

"Nah, I got it, I'm in the mood for sausage anyway, and we like to make it the Curtis way."

My stomach growled. Sausage and sauerkraut, one of my favorite meals. Soda grinned too, he loved it almost as much as we loved chocolate cake. And as you could probably guess, he _really_ loved chocolate cake.

"What's the special way?" Red asked curiously, her fierceness all spent. "Because if its sausage and beans..." she made a face.

Darry shook his head, pulling a pack of sausage from the freezer. So that's where he was hiding all the food. Darry should know better than to hide food from us. Then again, I guess that's why we have food right now.

We mingled around the kitchen, talking and laughing. At one point Ricky showed. That guy was funny. He was so quiet, and it seemed like he could disappear for days on end, and suddenly reappear as if he had never gone. He laughed a lot, but mostly watched us, like he was sizing us up carefully. The guy made me nervous as heck, but he didn't seem to have any bad ideas, so I guess I was only a little worked up because I knew zilch about him.

After a while, the food was done, and we dug in like a pack of wild dogs. It was really good—Darry's probably the best cook out of the three of us. Red had seconds, and thirds, and the rest of us were on our fourth helping. That's why the grocery bill was so high, I guess. After a while Darry took a plate off elsewhere, and my guess—the attic. Only Sodapop seemed to notice, but he didn't ask about it.

When we finished eating, it was about eight o'clock, but the guys all decided to stay the night. Great, I thought, I can figure on a lot of sleep. Really though, I didn't need it, I'd slept a lot in the past week and needed to let off a little.

The radio was turned up full blast, the TV was on with a rerun of Perry Mason, the guys were wrestling, swearing, knocking over lamps, tripping over the coffee table and hollering at each other. A normal Saturday night—even though today was Monday. Tim Shepard was passing by with Curly and his best buddy that they just called Mo. I found that pretty funny, Curly and Mo—like the Three Stooges. Curly wasn't necessarily a stooge, but he wasn't too bright either—all in all though, he was a pretty okay guy, and we hung out sometimes still. We talked and laughed and I noticed that Curly was trying to butter up Red. I was gonna cut in, but she said something to him that I couldn't make out, and his shoulders hung a little and he nodded in resignation, and wandered off to the kitchen.

I left for my room after some booze began to circulate around the room. Normally Darry would have reprimanded them, but he was upstairs still, he hadn't come down at all. I honestly didn't want to know what was up there that would keep him like that, but I think I already knew in the back of my head. I hightailed it back to my room, and sat around for a while, making sure to tidy up, which wasn't actually too hard.

I found a sketchpad under the bed and started drawing absentmindedly, and when I tuned in again, I saw that I'd drawn my best horse. I drew horses a lot, but this one was better than any I'd ever made before. It seemed like a mare, just from the way its kneecaps didn't bulge so much and its face wasn't so muscled. She was rearing up proudly and fiercely, an ornery glint in her eye. Her mane and tail were long, and swooped around her like it was windy out. Her coat gleamed, and I had to congratulate myself on how well I highlighted and shaded it. What got to me, though...was that her mane and tail were dark at the roots, then really light at the very tips. I studied the drawing for a while, touching things up here and there, when Red stumbled into the room, and threw herself down on the bed.

"I'm drunk," she stated simply.

"What?" I asked, my eyes widening as they turned on her. Her hair was all mussed up around her head, and a bruise was forming on her cheekbone. "What happened to you?"

"I'm—" she hiccuped. "—drunk, Ponyboy."

I dropped the sketchpad over the side of the bed where it lay, forgotten, and studied her face. "How'd you get that bruise, Red?"

She hiccuped again. "Not sure. I think I smacked into the door on the way...out of the kitchen."

"Does it hurt badly?" I asked worriedly.

Red shook her head, yet another squeaking hiccup escaping her. "Nope. Nothing hurts when I get drunk. I honestly hate...being soused. I talk mostly straight, but my head is all mixed up, y'know what I mean? I know...I'm drunk, too. That makes it all the worse. So if I do anything or say anything, don't hold it against me later...thank you very much," she hiccuped again. How many times can someone say drunk before it sounds funny?

"Do you want some ice? I can go get some."

Red shook her head again. "It's not gonna help pain that I don't know is there. I don't even know where the bruise is...I'm just taking your word for it...that I have one."

"Well—" I started, but Red cut in, "_Ton yeux est tr__és beau._"

"What?" I asked blankly. Red hiccuped yet again. "I can speak some French when I'm boozed up. I don't know how though...I don't know where I could...have possibly learned it."

"Well what did you just say?" I asked, bemused.

Red shrugged. "I speak it—I don't understand it. What more do you want from me, fool?" she asked, then her gaze fixed on mine. "But on a slightly more...serious note, did you know that you have breathtaking eyes?"

I was so completely confused at this point it didn't even occur to me to respond. Red continued anyway, "They're like...I don't know, Pony, like...the color of leaves when the sun shines through them, a pretty emerald-y green color, except on a cloudy day, like gray-silvery, if you know what I mean."

I had no clue what she meant, but I nodded slowly like I did. "Uh...yeah, thanks..."

Then she put her finger on the end of my nose, and did a cute lopsided smile accompanied by that unnerving giggle. "Want to know an interesting fact?" she asked me, tracing my face with her index finger. I was so completely bewildered I didn't answer, just stared at her in confusion. "Well, if I had a dollar right now, I'd roll it up as a cigarette and smoke it to see if it tasted any different. Do you think so? I don't really know. A cigarette is a cigarette to me."

"Sure," I said. I didn't really know what else to say. Red started playing with my hair.

"Have you ever taken a math test? I haven't, not since fourth grade at least. I think. Maybe third grade, I don't remember anymore. I like math. But I always had to have a class by myself, they were teaching me pre-algebra, I was apparently really smart when it came to math. But on math tests, the questions were so stupid. 'Leo has four apples, calculate the volume of the sun.' I mean, what the hell? Really? I study math, not...whatever the heck that is," she hiccuped, explaining this all hastily like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and a perfectly normal discussion topic.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah, that's...pretty wild math stuff there..."

Suddenly Red wrapped her arms around my waist, and nearly squeezed me to death, well, as much as a girl can. "Did you know you smell so nice? Like lavender...and cinnamon. Sodapop smells like lavender, except sort of like shave lotion too. I love lavender," she sighed. "Sometimes apple pie smells like lavender. So really, you smell like apple pie. Jacked-up apple pie, but apple pie nonetheless. I love apple pie too," she looked up at me, grinning lopsidedly. Wow. I'd have to get her drunk more often.

I laughed, deciding to roll with it, even though I was still baffled. "Uh...thanks, Red."

Her icy gaze held mine, and out of the blue, she asked, "Can I kiss you?"

"Wha—?" But I was cut short as her lips met mine. My eyes went wide, but she simply continued. I gathered my senses and began to kiss her back.

Before I knew it, I had Red pressed against the headboard, kissing her passionately, and she was running her hands through my hair, not even breathing. Finally, Red pulled back for air, and then waved to someone behind us, smiling lopsidedly.

I turned to find Two-Bit in the doorway, his jaw dropped, and a sandwich in his left hand. I felt my face burning, and he closed his mouth.

"I-I came to check on you, Pony, and see if you were okay, and if Red was in here...Curly wanted to know where she went..." then he grinned widely. "I guess he doesn't need to now. Gee, Ponyboy..." then he shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich. "Guess I can't say I wasn't expecting it. You guys seemed joined at the hip since Little Red got here. I have to say though, I didn't expect this for a while. Hah, if I didn't know any better, Little Red, I'd say you were drunk."

Red smiled back reassuringly. "Oh, I am. Soused, cross my heart!"

Two-Bit looked at me in disbelief. "I'd never of thought it of you to take advantage of a drunk girl, Ponyboy! You should be ashamed! Kissin' her like that!"

"Oh, I kissed him. Didn't really even give him much warning."

Two-Bit raised an eyebrow at her. "I'll be..."

"You will, but for now you are," she replied smartly.

"What?"

Red just smiled brightly.

"Are you gonna regret this in the morning?" Two-Bit asked.

"If I remember it? Most definitely. Smack myself upside the head, I will."

He stood there for a moment. "Well," he said finally. "Imma let you two get back to it. And yes," he said as I opened my mouth. "My lips are sealed. As yours obviously aren't, you sly dog, you," he winked and left.

"You're a good kisser, you know that?" Red asked, smiling and playing with my hair. I noticed her eyes were out of focus.

"I don't really see how..." I said, shrugging. I'd never really kissed a girl before.

"You just are. Now geroff, I'm gonna go punch some aspirin off of Soda, my head's flyin'," and with that she popped up and left. I sat there in surprise.

What had just happened?


	15. Chapter 15

Red's POV

I woke up, and my head ached so badly that I almost thought I cracked it open or something. Why was it so bright in here? I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. Ow.

Okay, what happened? I remembered we were having...almost a party of sorts, there were so many people there that it seemed like one, at least. Some kid was flirting with me too, and it seemed I couldn't get away from him. He hadn't been that bad-looking either—he had a lean, cat-like figure, and looked tough-as-nails, with dark smoldering eyes. His dark curly hair was greased back, and I knew as soon as I laid eyes on him that he was marked as a hood.

I know the guys I live with seem like hoods, but there's that small shade of difference that separates a hood and a greaser. The guys I'm with are greasers. But this Curly character was a hood. He had a tougher look to him, and when he smiled, it seemed bitter and cool. When Pony, Soda, Two-Bit, or even Steve smiled, at least their smiles were genuine. I don't know about Darry, he didn't smile often enough to tell. He just had too much to deal with to worry about smiling, I guess.

Okay, so that kid tailed me, I remember that, and Two-Bit got me to dance to Chuck Berry on the radio, and then some beer came into the picture...ah, so that's what happened. I got drunk. I remembered playing spin-the-bottle at one point...did the bottle land on me? I felt my face get red just imagining that.

Well, now my head was pounding. Great. I squinted my eyes and removed my hands from them, but it didn't help much, the light burned. I scooted off the bed and stood up. Okay, correction, my head was pounding and rolling. I tried to stand and get my bearings for a minute, but no dice. So eventually I just decided to weave my way to the kitchen, shading my eyes. I stumbled into one of the chairs, and plopped down in it.

I then noticed Soda on the other side of the table, playing solitaire. He looked up at me and raised an eyebrow. "Hey, it lives."

"Give me a break. I'm not feeling so hot," I muttered, closing my eyes.

"I figured," he replied, pressing a hand against my forehead. Soda laughed, and I opened an eye inquiringly.

"What?"

"You actually feel warmer than me for once! Not much, but your temperature actually feels kind of...normal!" he said, almost cackling.

"What's so funny about that?" I asked indignantly. "And please stop laughing, the sound is not helping my head at all."

Sodapop took a deep breath, trying to ease his chortling. "I dunno...it just is."

"Not really. My head is killing me. I feel half-dead."

"Wow," Soda said sarcastically. "You're so nice after getting some booze, we should get you drunk more often. Actually," he continued, leaning towards me over the table. "You aren't nice in hangover, but you're _very _friendly when you're under the influence," he winked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, opening my eyes, a feeling of panic welling in the pit of my stomach.

Soda shrugged indifferently, but he was smiling slyly. "I never said it was supposed to mean anything. But coming from someone who experienced it firsthand," he beamed, "You are a very, _very _good kisser."

I felt my breath catch in my throat as I squeaked, "You didn't—"

Soda was in cahoots. I heard Steve grumbling in the living room behind us for us to shut up. "No, _you_ didn't. Curly was trying to get a shot at ya, but you backhand pretty good. Not that that swayed him, just made him back down momentarily. And alas, you didn't kiss me. Or anyone else as far as I know—so stop lookin' like you murdered someone."

I felt a wave of relief. I'd only kissed one other guy before, and I hadn't liked it very much then—it may have had something to do with the fact that it was a drunk college guy that had stumbled out of a bar and happened to grab me and just snog me right there—but hey, what do I know?

"Well now you look like you just lost a sentence to the electric chair," Sodapop observed. "Kissing isn't _that _bad. I could give you a quick demonstration to judge on," he wiggled his eyebrows.

"You're a jerk," I muttered into the table.

"Aww, don't be like that, you love me."

"In your dreams."

"Alright," Steve fumed, storming into the kitchen. "If you guys are going to keep up a constant stream of conversation," I pointed to Soda as he continued. "Then I'm just gonna get up already. Do we have any leftovers?"

I could almost hear Soda's eyes rolling. "We just had a bunch of guys in the house last night, do you think we have any leftovers?"

Steve began to swear under his breath, then asked, "Hey, Red babe, can I eat some of the stuff you got the other day? I know where it is after all."

"No. And don't call me babe. Wait, I don't care," I replied, my head still on the table so my voice was muffled.

"About which part?" Steve asked.

"You're not getting into the Thanksgiving food," I resolved firmly.

"Hey, I'm the one that knows where it is. Maybe I'll just not tell you."

"Must I remind you, Steve, that we are in a kitchen. Kitchens tend to be full of cutlery, particularly, large knives. I am quite at liberty to shove one of those knives down your throat."

"Golly, sorry I asked. What's with her?" Steve asked.

"Hungover," Sodapop replied simply.

"Ah, haha, I suppose she would be. Glory, Red, you sure can sure polish off a case of beer on your own."

"I like beer."

"We can tell. Not likin' it so much now, huh?"

"Shut up. You're giving me a headache. Oh wait, I already have one."

I heard Sodapop stand up and go to the bathroom, and he came back with a sound like a maraca.

I sat up and winced, putting my hands against my head. "Ugh, cut that out! What are you doing?"

He smiled apologetically, popping two pills out of the bottle and dropping them on the table in front of me. Aspirins.

"I take three," I said, picking up the two and swallowing them quickly.

"No you don't! You're a girl, you weigh nothing, and you haven't eaten since last night—did I mention you weigh nothing?"

"C'mon, Soda, two won't do nothing for me," I whined. "Three do the trick though!"

"I gave you two last night and you didn't complain," Soda pointed out.

"I wouldn't have known if you'd given me ten! I was rip-roarin' drunk!" I retorted.

"We know—you were passed out on the floor after midnight," Two-Bit said, lumbering into the kitchen. "You were as drunk as I could ever get."

Soda tossed me a pair of sunglasses. "Put these on, it'll help with the light."

"How come you aren't hungover?" I grumpily asked, slipping them onto my face. They did help after all.

Soda shrugged, coming and leaning on the back of my chair. "I don't drink."

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, that's true—this boy gets drunk though. He gets high just off the life of the party, he doesn't need to drink to get drunk."

I processed that for a minute. "Then how come you guys aren't hungover?"

Two-Bit pulled out of the fridge with a bologna and mayo sandwich. How he always manages to scrounge up food is beyond me. "Experience. I'm boozed so often that I don't even really get hangovers anymore."

"And I'm hungover, I just didn't drink too much last night, so it's not that bad," Steve added.

"I hate you all."

"Bet you don't hate Ponyboy, though," Two-Bit said with a wink.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked suspiciously.

"Oh, you don't...? Oh, good, just swell." He beamed at me.

"What?" Steve, Soda and I chorused.

Just then, Ponyboy lumbered out of his room in a t-shirt and pajama pants, and when his eyes met mine, he grinned, but tried to cover it up.

"What did you guys do?" Steve asked interestedly. I looked at Soda and his eyes were wide.

"You two didn't..." he began, but Two-Bit realized what he was going to say and clapped a hand over Soda's mouth.

"Sodapop Patrick Curtis, if you ever suggest such a thing again I will personally give you a shiner right there in your sorry eye!" he threatened. "Ponyboy doesn't do the dirty yet! Wait, you don't, right?" he turned to Pony questioningly.

I glanced at Ponyboy, and his eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open. "Two-Bit! Are you off your rocker?! And Soda, you know better! Glory...cheezus crust!"

For a moment there was an awkward silence. Then I broke it. "What did we do?"

"Well I went into Pony's room to see if he was alright, and found you two pressed up against the wall swappin' spit. Gee, Ponyboy's never had a girlfriend, but you two sure seemed to know what you were doing."

"Two-Bit!" Ponyboy hollered angrily. "You weren't supposed to tell!"

"Well, better than them thinking you did the dirty!" he shot back.

Steve was chortling, Soda was standing with his mouth hanging open stupidly, while Two-Bit and Ponyboy looked like they were about to start throwing fists at each other.

Steve had lost it. He was heaving with laughter. "Golly...Ponyboy finally got some action...and Red...hah, I thought...she couldn't...even handle talking...about kissing!" he managed between laughs.

That made me mad. I could take anything, especially kissing. By the time I did it, I didn't even register what I was doing. I stood up, went over to Steve, and slapped him across the face. Then I kissed him on the jaw. When I pulled back he looked so surprised that I almost laughed.

But I wasn't done yet. I was going to prove my point. I moved over to Two-Bit, kissed him on the cheek, and then I went to Ponyboy and kissed him on the lips, causing his eyes to go wide. Hey, I apparently did it once; I can do it again. It must not have been a very good kiss though, because I was smirking.

"None of us got one on the mouth," Steve observed, rubbing where I had hit him.

"Maybe," I said coldly. "I don't feel like contracting herpes from people like you."

A collective _ooh_ went through the room.

Then Soda decided to have a moment of brilliance. "You still haven't kissed me," he pointed out quietly, wiggling his eyebrows.

I shook my head slowly. "Just...just shut up, all of you," I said, pushing out of the kitchen. I went and sat on the back porch stoop, leaning against the side of the house. After a while, I heard Soda's voice, along with Darry's, followed by the revving of a diesel engine. _Leaving for work_, I thought.

Subconsciously, I knew I was being sensitive and over-reactive, but something was off. Different. There had been a lot of change over the past week. I was used to change—but I was used to insecurity. My life was quick-paced and unpredictable. There were no stable aspects. But now...I had been in one place for more than a few days, with no recent intention of relocating. This was security—at least to my standard. And it made me feel insecure. I was insecure with security; I wasn't used to it, it was new and alien to me. But this wasn't the kind of insecurity I lived by. That's why it wasn't working.

So did this make me irritable with Soda? Is this what made me lash out at everybody? In my constantly dynamic life, I couldn't handle change like this. I was a poor excuse for a human being. Taking out my buried frustration on other people. I'm sickening to myself; just imagine how others feel about me.

I never cared how others felt before. That wasn't my job, then. I needed to survive, and if you were uncomfortable about it, that wasn't my problem. Now I'm worried about how others feel. I'm worried about what they think. What's happening to me? I'm starting to...care. About other people. These people. They mattered to me.

Great—now I'm a regular marshmallow. Soon the gang and I will be laying in sleeping bags, braiding each other's hair and sharing secrets. Just perfect.

I heard the front door slam again, and it sounded like two somebodies were bickering. I listened, but I couldn't make out who they were or what they were saying—they were heading in the opposite direction.

Well, if Ponyboy wasn't one of the ones that left—we needed to have a serious discussion. I stood up and opened the door, and was greeted by the scent of chocolate. I entered the kitchen, but it was empty. The only thing there was a note on the table. Oh... I disregarded the slip of paper and followed the chocolatey scent to its source: the oven. They must have wanted me to keep an eye on the cake while it baked.

I hadn't had breakfast, and the smell of chocolate was making me hungry, so I decided to hunt up something to eat. There were eggs and deli ham in the fridge, and half a loaf of bread on the counter, so I decided to make a sandwich out of it. I cooked up the eggs pretty fast, and smacked them on the bread with the ham. It was actually really good, considering it took me only five minutes to prepare—but it would have been much better with cheese.

I had just finished my egg and ham sandwich, and I was cleaning up, when I heard a pained groan reverberate through the house. Was it a person? I stood there bemusedly for a moment, when I heard it again, louder this time. Yep, definitely a person.

I wandered out to the living room, but there was no one there. I checked the porch—nope. When I was snooping around down the hallway, I heard it again. It sounded like it was coming from...the end of the hall. The laundry room. I padded there, and poked my head in, but there were no signs of life.

"Darry...Soda..."

That's when I realized that the voice was directly above me. I looked upward, to where there was a rectangular door with a small chain hanging from it.

"_Darry_..." the voice groaned more demandingly.

I weighed my options. This was an invasion of the Curtis's home. But whoever was up there sounded like they needed help. They were both the right thing to do, quit or carry on, but I had to figure out which was more right. My decision was made for me when the person gasped sharply. They needed my help, now.

I pulled on the chain, and the door swung open and unfolded into either a failure of a ladder or a really steep staircase. I half-ran half-climbed up it, cursing myself out as I tripped on the footholds. Whoever was up here began to cough and hack violently, making me ascend all the faster.

When I reached the landing, I stood up and brushed myself off. It was dark up here, that's for sure. All around, there were cardboard boxes and old wooden crates, crowding, stacked from the old wooden floor to the low ceiling. My likely-ADHD mind wondered vaguely what was in them. There was a narrow maze through the boxes, leading to what seemed the only light source in the entire attic, and the source itself was obscured by the towers of cardboard, but it seemed to be a small lamp, judging from the amount of light cast.

I took a deep breath and weaved through the boxes, following the path the maze created to the light. I reached an area of clear floor, and I saw the source of the commotion. There was a bed crammed against the wall, with a makeshift night table of cardboard boxes that bore the small lamp I had suspected. But what stole my breath was the bed's occupant.

I knew him. I knew that face. Where I knew it from, I had no idea.

He was entangled and blankets, clutching them with his fist, his breathing was fast, and his face was covered in a sheen of sweat. A gauze blindfold was over his eyes. He looked bad. Like death. His thick pale blonde hair stuck out in tufts and wisps, and burn marks, along with bruises, dirt, cuts and scars, decorated his face like a sick war paint. But underneath the abuse it bore, I knew that face. But from where?

Suddenly, he snapped upright, causing me to jump. "Ponyboy...?" he asked uncertainly.

"Uh...no, I'm not Ponyboy," I stammered nervously.

"A girl? Who are you?"

"Um...my name is Red. I'm staying with Ponyboy for a while."

He grinned lopsidedly. "Ponyboy finally get himself a girl, huh?"

Why does everyone around here instantly assume I'm Pony's girlfriend?

"Ha...no, not me. He and his brothers...helped me out."

"Can ya come over here?" he asked, beckoning me..

I shuffled to his side, chewing on my fingernail. He raised his hand unsurely, and touched my arm, causing me to flinch—he was colder than I was.

"Sorry," he said apologetically. "I just need to know where you are. I hate not being able to see, it makes me nervous."

"Yeah—why are you blindfolded?" I asked curiously.

He smiled drily. "Well sweetheart, have you ever o' something called a Molotov?"

I paled, sucking in a breath. "Like...like—Molotov Cocktail?" I knew what those were all too well. I had made some myself, for protection, when I was near the outskirts of New York. Bombs in a bottle, is what they essentially were—throw them, and they'll explode and incinerate whatever they hit. I had never actually used them on anyone, even though there were several instances where I should have. Molotov Cocktails are for the kill—and even if you did survive, you'd spend a long time wishing you hadn't.

"Exactly. Got one in the face. Luckily for me, the guy that threw them was either very bad at making them, or very bad at aiming."

I laughed despite myself. "Yeah—very lucky for you. But how did you get in that situation?"

He smiled drily. "Long story. Let's just say that no one can know I'm here."

"Seems legitimate enough," I said thoughtfully.

"Very much so."

"Wait, but doesn't this..." I stopped in realization.

"Mean that I could end up blind?" he finished, shrugging. "Yeah. It does."

I opened my mouth, and closed it. "How—it's like you just—"

"Read your mind? Yeah, that's odd," he replied thoughtfully. "I just realized—I haven't—"

"Told me your name," I finished without thinking. It was his turn to open and close his mouth, but he ended up smiling.

"That's weird," we said together—and laughed.

But then his face slackened. "Steve?"

"Your name is Steve?" I asked curiously, frowning. He didn't look like a Steve.

"No," another voice cut in flatly from behind me. "But mine is," Steve said coolly. "And you shouldn't be up here," he added, picking me up by my shoulders and steering me out.

"Steve—wait—" the guy said, but I was already practically gone. "My name's Dally, by the way!" he called.

The attic door slammed in my face.


	16. Chapter 16

When Two-Bit and I got home, Red was sitting in the kitchen, looking pensive. Her eyebrows were all scrunched up, she was biting her lip, and her icy eyes were piercing the table, but you could tell she wasn't really seeing it. Her hands were working away at her hair, where a bunch of little odd braids already hung loosely. I guess that's a habit she has when she's thinking.

She didn't seem to notice us come in. I looked to Two-Bit, and he just gave a _what-can-you-do_ kind of shrug. I sat down slowly across the table from her, and Two-Bit went over to the oven.

"Hallo?" I said, looking at Red curiously. When she didn't respond, I said again, "Hellooo?"

Nothing. Finally, I just began waving my hand frantically in front of her face. "Earth to Red, yoo-hoo!" Red blinked quickly, and looked at me as if I had intruded into her thoughts.

"What?" she asked irately, her hands falling from her hair.

"You were zoned _way_ out, Red. Like, gee," Two-Bit interjected, sitting down with a piece of cake and throwing her a dirty look.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, her brows scrunching up again.

"Why else? The top of the cake is burnt!"

"There was a cake?"

"Yes, there was a cake! We left a note!" Two-Bit said, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Red bit her lip. "Gee...sorry, Two-Bit. I...I didn't see it."

Two-Bit let out a tried sigh. "I suppose it's alright. I'll just scrape the burnt part off. It's just a cake, I guess. Someone needs to make icing though." He looked pointedly to me.

"Fine, I'm on it," I sighed, standing up and going over to the cupboard.

We sat there for a while in filtered silence, and the only noises were those of me mixing the icing, and Red humming a tune I recognized to be "Tulane" by Chuck Berry. Two-Bit was silently tapping his foot to her rhythm. The silence was still thick though.

"What day of the week is is?" Red asked pensively, breaking the quiet.

"Uh...Tuesday. Why? You got plans or somethin'?" I asked, setting the bowl in front of Two-Bit and handing him a spoon. He cocked an eyebrow at me, but then commenced to using the spoon to spread the icing on his piece of cake.

"Yeah, I'm going to bust a group of roguish convicts out of the state penitentiary and see where it goes from there," Red said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Then she sighed. "No, I don't really have plans. I'm just really, really bored. It's exasperating to me."

"You _don't really_ have plans? What is that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"It means that I don't have any plans I plan on carrying out at the moment," she replied irritably.

"That was redundant," I said.

"Well I have plans!" Two-Bit stated plainly, his face making it seem like a light bulb was supposed to be suspended over his head. "I'm going out. To the Ribbon. Maybe there'll be real cake. And you guys are—"

"Going to accompany you!" Red exclaimed, thrusting her fist in the air.

Two-Bit laughed. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

"I didn't give you the chance to," Red replied brightly, grinning.

I cleared my throat, passing my gaze between the two of them. "Don't I get a say in this?"

"Hmm? No," Red said as she exited the kitchen. "I have no clue what he means by the Ribbon anyway. No time like the present to see for myself."

The Ribbon was the long main-way that got more traffic than any other in the city. Basically, you sat in a car and drove up and down it, and you could almost always find someone you knew there—it was one of the most popular hangouts in town. Sometimes people got caught up with drugs there, but that was pretty rare. Normally there were just fights, roadside stands, and if you got lucky, a drag race or two. The Ribbon was always congested with cars, street vendors, cops, and teenagers—greasers and Socs alike. It was noisy, dirty, jam-packed, and everyone loved it. I honestly didn't see what was so great about it, but one thing was for sure, if you looked or waited long enough, you could always find a buddy there. Or the fuzz. Depends on your luck I guess.

When Red came back she was in fresh clothes and her hair was wet, and in the process of getting tied up in a bandana. I groaned.

"What?" Red demanded hotly.

"I hate to say it Little Red...but you never do learn, do you?" I said, raising my eyebrows.

"I haven't been to a school in approximately seven years, Ponyboy. And the year I was in, I didn't pass, so..." she stopped.

"Why didn't you pass?" I asked, retrieving my Chucks.

Red paused, and I couldn't read her face. Finally she said, "I...just didn't. No legitimate reason, I suppose."

I felt my face twist in confusion. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Nothing in my life makes sense, Pony," she snapped. "Now let's just go, okay?"

"Yeah. And I was referring to the fact that you're going out in freezing weather with wet hair. You wanna catch cold or pneumonia or something and die?"

Red was trying to wrestle one of her scarlet-colored Converses onto her foot without untying it. "You people, Judist priest," Red said, her face tight with concentration. "Someday I'm gonna undoubtedly die, and I promise you it ain't gonna be by the consequential wrath of wet hair."

"And how are you so sure?" Two-Bit chimed, leaning on the kitchen counter.

"I plan to go out in a much more grand way, thank you very much," Red retorted, raising an eyebrow at Two-Bit as she slipped on her burly aviator jacket.

Even with the really thick jacket on, you could tell her form was a lot slighter than it was supposed to be. That girl ate like a horse, and it seemed she still didn't get enough. I sighed inwardly at the thought.

"Well, you never know, Little Red," Two-Bit shrugged, beginning to stride out the door.

"Hey!" Red called irately, shoving her foot into the other shoe. "Wait up, butt-face!"

Two-Bit stopped, half-turning and poking his head through the doorway, looking at Red funny. "What did you just call me?" he asked, his eyes playfully dangerous.

I chuckled, slipping into my jacket, as Red stuck her chin up defiantly. "Butt-face. Don't like it? Sue me."

"Oh, I'll do more than sue you," Two-Bit said darkly, approaching Red dramatically with a smoldering look. "You know what I'm gonna do?"

"What would that be...butt-face?"

Two-Bit grinned evilly. "I'm gonna..." he paused for dramatic effect, the grin dropping off his features. "_Tickle you_!" he screamed, chasing Red out of the house.

"Hey, hey, Two-Bit!" I hollered after him, running outside. "Lay off!"

But I was too late. He had drop-tackled Red, and she was writhing around on the ground, squealing and begging for mercy. So I did the obvious thing—I tackled Two-Bit. He wheezed in surprise as my body made impact, but flattened quicker than a tire over glass shards.

"Good lordy kid," he gasped. "You should have gone out for football.

"I don't like football," I muttered angrily. "She's just getting over the flu or whatever the heck she had, and you're knocking her into the snow. I can't decide which one of you is stupider."

"Stupider ain't a word," Two-Bit retorted, shoving out from under me.

"The irony of that sentence is charming," I spat back humorlessly.

Red poked me in the back of my head. "Uh, Pony? Did you have to tackle him? I mean—"

"He's just being a protective boyfriend," Two-Bit offered, standing up and brushing the snow off of himself.

"Shut up, Two-Bit! She's not my girlfriend!" I fumed.

Two-Bit just wriggled his eyebrows infuriatingly. "Think what ya like, _butt-face_."

"Two-Bit—" I snarled, flinging myself at him, but Red's hand clamped on my shoulder.

"Hey, hold up for a second!" Red hissed, and I loosened my grip on Two-Bit's neck.

"What?" we asked together.

"Look across the street," she said, her eyes narrowing. "What's going on?"

Our gazes followed hers to the other side of the road, where an old house sat. That place had been abandoned for years. It was kind of old, large, and grand, yet dilapidated to what seemed beyond repair. It was a dark off-gray, and the windows were dirty and cracked, with curtains to match the house that were always drawn shut. The paint was peeling, and the roof was missing shingles. A few tall, old trees rose from the ground like watchtowers, their roots hidden by the thick overgrowth of the hedges and shrubs, along with an assortment of weeds. The house seemed to almost sink towards the ground, as if in resignation to its rundown state.

When Soda and I were younger, we used to think it was haunted, and for good reason. The previous owner had disappeared mysteriously, and she herself was creepy enough. We'd never actually met her in person, but when Mom was alive she'd go over and visit her quite often. Mom had insisted she was a very nice lady, but Soda and I didn't buy it—she simply seemed too creepy. She always wore only white dressing gowns, and had long dark hair that would hang around her elbows. If that didn't sound disturbing enough already, sometimes she had stood for hours in the quarter-moon windows in the upper part of her house, only her face visible. She never came outside her house, and aside from my mother, no one ever went in.

Soda and I concocted all sorts of crazy stories. Our favorite theory—the woman, Miss Dickens, was a she-vampire, and that's why she was pale, creepy, and never came outside. Of course when I told my mom, she would scold us, but we still honestly believed it. Now I figure she must have just been a troubled woman. Now, since the woman had been reported missing several years ago, the place lay vacant and deteriorating. Still, that had only added to the sinister-looking house.

But now, there was a battered orange truck sitting in the driveway , and a ladder leaning against the side of the house. And five people were huddled, heads together, on the porch, talking tensely yet quietly. They seemed to be having a debate.

"I don't know," I told Red. "I really don't know."

"Well, let's go find out," she resolved instantly, grabbing the sleeve of our jackets and beginning to haul us to the other side of the street.


End file.
